Something Old, Something New CA
by ForeverLeyton
Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected:  Callie meets Arizona's favorite ex; Maura's got an itch Jane wants to scratch.  Oh, and there's a murder, too.
1. Chapter 1

**Something Old, Something New (Chapter 1 of ?)**

**Authors: Roughian and ForeverLeyton**

**Rating: PG-13 for now. Who are we kidding? NC-17, eventually.**

**Fandom: Crossover: Rizzoli and Isles/Callie and Arizona**

**Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected: Callie meets Arizona's favorite ex; Maura's got an itch Jane wants to scratch. Oh, and there's a murder, too.**

* * *

><p>Callie flipped through the Sky Magazine catalogue, smiling at each brand new gizmo with an enthralled little 'ooh'. Sure, maybe they didn't particularly need a massaging recliner that doubled as a cooler and day bed, but damn if she wasn't happy with the ability to actually sit down and look through a magazine uninterrupted. Granted, they were 36,000 miles above land, but still.<p>

Arizona, on the other hand, hadn't given her iPad a moment's rest since they'd been given the go ahead to connect to the plane's wireless and was now nervously using her fingers to pinch, drag, and occasionally type on the touch screen. Callie quirked an eyebrow. "Arizona," she warned. "She's fine."

"Who's fine?" Arizona hedged, her eyes shifting to glance at her wife before streaking back to the iPad screen. When she giggled at the picture in front of her, Arizona could _feel_ her wife roll her eyes.

"I know you are using that stupid thing to freak out about Sofia. I don't know how but…" Leaning over the blonde's shoulder, Callie peeked at the iPad before reeling back and smacking Arizona with the magazine. "Arizona Robbins! You did not put a nanny cam in Mr. Teddy!"

"What? Um. Calliope! It's the first time she's with Mark by herself! A whole weekend!"

"What do you mean the first time?" Callie asked, charmed despite herself by the image of Mark and Sofia sprawled on the ground in his apartment, diligently assembling a castle of pink and purple blocks. "He has her every other weekend, Arizona."

"Sure, he has her," Arizona agreed. "But we are never more than ten minutes away. We're always there. Now he has her alone. Aren't you the least bit worried about that?"

Closing her magazine, Callie sighed and rubbed her eyes. "First, as inept as that man is with most things in his personal life, I think he's proven himself as a great dad for Sof. Second, this whole trip," she gestured wildly with her hand, "was your idea."

Arizona bristled and cast one more glance at the iPad's screen, catching Sofia demolish their topsy-turvy castle with a muted giggle, then shifted her gaze to her wife. "I know, I'm sorry. I just miss her I guess."

Callie smiled, threading her fingers with the blonde's. "It's only a few days. And besides, when do we get time like this, really? I miss Sofia too, but I also miss you a little."

Catching the tone change, Arizona dimpled. "Well, we do have a luxury suite for the weekend."

"Exactly," Callie encouraged with a sultry little giggle.

Arizona reached over to rest their joined hands on Callie's leg, using her fingertip to draw circles along the inside of Callie's knee. "No crying in the middle of the night. No dinners interrupted by spilled milk. No—"

"No scrubs covered in snot," Callie easily picked up Arizona's game. "No sexy time interrupted by Mark Sloan."

"Yes!" Arizona enthusiastically agreed with that sentiment.

"Just you and me," Callie grinned.

"You and me," Arizona nodded. "And Becca!" She squealed, more excited that she expected about the impending marriage of her long-time best friend. "I can't wait for you to meet everyone. For everyone to meet you."

"Uh huh," Callie agreed, less giddy about _that _part. Not that badass Calliope Torres worried about such things. But still.

"Mike will be there, Becca's brother. And Susan, my lab partner in Gross Anatomy. She's got a kid about Sof's age now, I think. Oh! I wonder if Maura will be there," Arizona mused.

Instantly recognizing her wife's tone, Callie turned to face Arizona. "Maura?"

"Oh. Callie, I'm sure I've mentioned her before." Arizona smiled as she rubbed her thumb over Callie's knuckles. "Maura Isles. My med. school girlfriend?"

"Oh, she's going to be there?" Callie said, voice cracking some. "The fancy crime scene doctor?"

"Medical Examiner, yes. She's very nice, Calliope. You'll like her, I promise."

"Sure, what's not to like about the girl you dated for two years in medical school and only broke up with because she stayed in Baltimore for a while and you moved back to Boston. So comforting."

Arizona tightened her grip on Callie's hand. "Hey, if I didn't take that rotation at Mass Gen I wouldn't have ended up in Seattle, meeting the most beautiful girl I know and then marrying her."

"Cheesy, Robbins," Callie smirked, softening at the sweetness of her wife. "But effective. What's she like?"

"Well…" Arizona drawled, tongue tucked firmly in cheek. "She's just my type. Blonde. Brainy. Kind of reserved but in a really sweet, sensitive way."

"Huh. Blonde, sweet and sensitive," Callie scoffed, involuntarily squeezing their hands tighter together. "That's your type?"

"It is," Arizona agreed, nodding solemnly but unable to stop her tell-all dimple from peeking. "I like my girls…demure."

Now Callie laughed out loud. "Sure you do. Demure, that's how most people describe me. Our toddler, too, she's a demure girl."

Arizona giggled and acquiesced. "Turns out, maybe I do prefer a bad ass brunette. Fiery Latinas with bad tempers and big hearts."

"You better," Callie demanded.

* * *

><p>Maura Isles stood at the entryway to Jane Rizzoli's office, heeled foot tapping gently as she crossed her arms across the chest of her little black dress. "This is your last chance, Jane. There will be filet mignon at this rehearsal dinner. And those miniature crab cakes you like."<p>

Jane looked up from her desk at the mention of food options, momentarily taken aback by the sight of Maura even more dolled up than usual. "And where is this? The Ritz? You look damn fancy."

"It's at the Onyx downtown. It's a four star hotel, and they've brought in catering... Anyway, are you coming or not?" Maura persisted, checking the time on her phone which she deposited daintily back into the small purse. "There's just enough time for you to change into something that isn't," she paused, gesturing to the detective's familiar slacks and-v-neck combination, "that."

"No, Maura. Ask Frost or Korsak. I'm sure they'd love to eat steaks and be merry with your snobby—"

"Snobby? Jane, Becca is my friend from medical school. She is by no means snobby. She's marrying her college sweetheart, an algebra teacher at a high school in Dorchester. They are the picture of modesty. Well, except for her extremely decorated reputation as one of the best cardio thoracic surgeons in the Boston area." Maura explained, ignoring Jane's eye roll.

"Did someone say filet mignon?" Frost asked as he peeked his head in the doorway, smiling some.

"And crab cakes?" Korsak added, tucking a file folder against his chest as he joined the small gathering.

"She wasn't talking to you two morons," Jane huffed, ignoring the fact that she had suggested Frost or Korsack as Maura's date moments before. "We've got a wit waiting to tell us who killed Vickie Manigo, remember?"

"Oh," Maura perked up, "you have a witness to the Manigo homicide? Do I need to stay? After all—"

"No, doc, you go to your _modest_ rehearsal with the Cardio-whatnot doctor. The three of us can catch a killer all by ourselves. Besides," Jane ran a finger through the air to take in the whole of Maura's outfit, "I'm pretty sure a get up like that will, uh, distract our witness. He is a 23 year old Harvard boy, after all."

"Well…" Maura hesitated. "Ok. You're right. I really shouldn't miss this evening. You know," she continued, perching herself comfortably on the corner of Jane's desk, "Johns Hopkins was probably the first time I met any real friends. Of course, most people were…disturbed when they learned I planned to become an ME. But at least everyone there shared my fascination with the human body."

Jane grinned throughout Maura's introspective rambling, enjoying the vision of a young Dr. Isles, finally finding comfort among cadavers and science nerds. She was so caught up in her imagination of a twenty-something Maura that she lost track of the sandy blonde's story until—

"—And of course, Arizona will be there. Probably the maid of honor. I wonder if she will bring her new wife?"

"What the heck kind of name is Arizona?" Jane asked, watching as Korsak and Frost loomed in the doorway, all of their ears perked at the words _her wife_.

"Arizona Robbins. She's a very well respected pediatric surgery attending in Seattle. Have I honestly not mentioned her prior to this?" Maura smiled wistfully.

Jane recognized that look. I usually appeared after the ME had seen a particularly "healthy specimen" of a man's naked torso or something. "No, you haven't," she replied definitively.

"Oh, well. I've known her a good portion of my life. She was my medical school girlfriend." Maura gave another goofy smile, looking off into the distance.

"You just mentioned tons of girlfriends at medical school, what makes her so special?" Jane asked flatly, wondering if that prickle at the back of her neck was simple instinct or something more.

"She was my _girlfriend_. As in, my partner. Um, in the Sapphic sense," Maura explained. "For about two years actually. Quite interesting."

Korsak dropped the file folder he'd been holding, papers fluttering to the floor, as Frost coughed into his hand to hide the lewd smile spreading across his cherubic face.

Jane stared silently at Maura, realization slamming into her like one of those slow-motion cartoon anvils. "You mean…" She began, trailing off when one corner of Maura's perfect lips lifted in a smile of gentle accord.

"I mean," Maura agreed softly.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Arizona," Callie called out across the expansive suite, her voice reaching the elaborate bathroom where Arizona showered. "Your dad's on the phone."<p>

"What? Calliope, I can't hear you. Who's on the phone?"

Callie groaned and lifted herself off the hotel's sumptuous king-size bed. Striding into the steamy bathroom, she waved Arizona's cell phone in front of the shower stall door. "Your dad, he's on the phone."

"Oh. Well, uh, I'm a little busy here."

"I can see that," Callie grinned, enjoying the distorted silhouette of her naked wife behind the beveled glass. "Need any help?"

"Calliope!" Arizona hissed. "My father. The phone. Hello!"

"What? Oh! Right. Um," Callie pulled the phone back to her ear, desperately relieved neither her wife nor the Colonel could see her blush. "Colonel, Arizona's, ah, in the shower and…Yes, sir, Mark's got Sofia. Oh," Callie's voice softened into pure mush, "you were calling for Sofia. No, we didn't bring her. It's Mark's weekend and…yes, we wanted a bit of a vacation." After a brief pause, Callie grinned. "Yes, sir, I'll tell her. Uh, Colonel," Callie added, "Mark wouldn't mind, if you wanted to call. He wouldn't mind if you called to talk to Sofia, maybe, um, check on her a bit. Great, thanks. Goodbye, sir."

She hung up with a smile on her face, one that slipped into a grin when the shower door swung open to reveal a dripping, naked Arizona with her hands perched arrogantly on her hips. "Sic'ing the Colonel on Mark, huh? Looks like I'm not the only one who's a little nervous?"

"Whatever," Callie responded, waving the accusation off as though ridiculous. "Your dad wanted to talk to Sofia. I'm simply making that happen."

"Uh huh," Arizona laughed, bending over to swirl her hair into a white hotel towel. "What else did he say?"

"Just that he and your mom are sorry they missed us. He had to leave for the Academy today. Something about a speech or…"

"Yeah," Arizona breathed. "Welcome to the U.S. Marine Corps. Semper Fi."

"Intense," Callie murmured, absentmindedly watching Arizona wrap her naked form up in a towel.

"He's always doing things like this. A speech here, a ribbon-cutting thing there. They love him over at the Academy. And they loved Tim, too." Arizona explained as she pumped a few squirts of lotion into her palms, working the moisturizing cream in circles against the toned leg she propped against the sink counter.

"I'm kinda sad we won't get to see them," Callie added as she dropped her robe, heading into the still steamy shower herself.

Arizona watched her wife's retreating form in the mirror, sad when the frosted glass door closed and obscured her view. "Same. We'll have to have them stay at our place for a long weekend soon."

Callie was grateful for the loud screech of the taps and then the sound of steady water running so she didn't have to answer that. She loved Arizona's parents, but their apartment in Seattle was cramped as it stood. Adding the grandparents to that mix was always chaotic.

"Anyway," Arizona continued, ignoring her wife's hesitation, "Becca's going to be upset my parents won't be there tomorrow. Maura, too," she added thoughtfully. "Maura and my dad adored each other."

"They, uh, they did?" Callie tried to keep her voice level at that bit of news but it was difficult. What with the shampoo suds she had accidently let drip into her mouth and all.

Arizona, glancing at her wife's wavy form through the mirror, grinned and spoke around her toothbrush. "Yep. Maura's…proper. Full of sir's and ma'am's and protocol. Dad loves her."

"Hey!" Callie popped the door open and stuck her head out. "I said sir! Did you hear me, on the phone just now? I said sir!"

Arizona giggled and stepped over to drop a quick kiss to her wife's pouting lips, droplets of water clinging to pink flesh. "Did you?" She teased. "Must be why my father loves you, too. Now hurry up and finish in there. I wanna show off my wife."

Callie narrowed her eyes but she ducked back into the shower. Calling out to her wife through the stream of water she said, "If you're trying to make me hate this Examiner chick, it's working!"

Smiling to herself, Arizona whispered, "'Bout time." Out loud she said two words as she sauntered into the bedroom: "Mark. Sloan."

* * *

><p>Maura decided to go stag to the dinner, leaving Frost, Korsak and Jane to process her recent confession. She found people's fascination with sexuality to be flummoxing and always adhered to the policy of sexual fluidity. Regardless of the players, sex was all the same.<p>

When the ME arrived at the Onyx, she slipped into the room marked Parsons-Miller rehearsal dinner and found a healthy crowd already mingling through the dinning area. Immediately she spotted Becca and her husband-to-be, Ray, chatting animatedly with Becca's mother and father as they all clinked their glasses. Maura sauntered to the barkeep and ordered a glass of Viognette, craving the sweet, cool white wine for a night like tonight.

Unable to stop herself, she did a quick scan of the room for Arizona, but caught neither blonde curls nor dimples. Maura wondered what Dr. Robbins' wife would be like, maybe something like the ME? Or something totally different? Either way she was thrilled for her long time friend. If she'd read her last e-mail correctly (which she was sure she had), the pediatric surgeon even mentioned something about a baby. That sounded absolutely nothing like the Arizona Robbins that Maura had known, but people were, in fact, capable of changing.

"Maura!" Becca called as she caught sight of the newly-arrived woman, rushing over to wrap her friend in a warm hug.

"Oh, Maura, I'm so glad you're here." Still holding onto Maura's arm, Becca tugged her fiancé towards her friend. "Ray, you remember Dr. Maura Isles?"

"Ah," Ray stuck out his hand, both the light sheen of palm sweat and his goofy smile relaying an adorable anxiety. "Sure, Maura. Hi. You're the, ah, the cop doc, right?"

"Cop doc," Maura repeated with a laugh. _Jane would love that_. "Yes, I work with the Boston Police Department."

"Maura catches _murderers_," Becca announced, her eyes wide and her voice intrigued, even after all these years. "It's…crazy. I saw you, you know, on the news. A while ago. It was right after we met in Back Bay for lunch, remember? You were on the news two days later. Something about a dirty cop? And a shooting?"

Maura shivered, instantly recalling the vision of Jane turning a murderer's gun into her own belly. Clearing her throat, Maura nodded and quickly changed the subject. "Has it really been that long since we've met for lunch? Three months?"

"Almost four," Becca agreed, squeezing Maura's arm. "That might be my second favorite thing about getting married—it's like my own personal reunion! For you, too." She pointed to the corner where a small woman flirted with an attractive man in his mid-thirties. "That's Susan, over there, chatting with…" Becca squinted at the man before groaning. "Oh, God, chatting with Jason." Glancing at her fiancée she added, "We'll have to put a stop to that, Ray. Soon. But Maura," the always-infectious Becca continued, spinning towards another corner of the room, "over there's…Oh my God."

"What?" Maura asked, her friendship with Jane putting her foolishly on edge when surprise dripped in Becca's tone.

Following Becca's point towards the doorway, Maura saw a stunning brunette, all feminine curves and broad smiles, sweeping into the dining room. "Is that—"

"Arizona's wife," Becca finished for her.

Becca and Maura looked on at the couple, smiling at one another as they shared an obviously hilarious anecdote and both doubled over laughing before catching themselves and straightening up, glancing around to make sure no one had caught them being goofy. When they noticed the small gathering that was staring at them for an entirely different reason, Arizona's smile widened.

"Wow, is that really Arizona Robbins?" Ray asked. "She looks great. And her wife is hot," he blurted, blushing when he realized that thought was spoken out loud.

Maura and Becca glared playfully at the man. "Sorry, I meant... beautiful and she's probably got an interesting personality?"

When neither woman softened their glare, he cleared his throat and started toward the bar. "Well, I need a refill."

"She is very beautiful," Maura observed as Ray walked away. "She looks Cuban, but I'd also say there might be parentage from Spain as well."

Becca giggled. "Oh, Maura. Shush. They're coming this way."

"Arizona Robbins," Becca gushed. "You look fabulous. And this must be—"

"Callie," the brunette smiled as she held out a hand. "Congratulations on your wedding!"

Becca forewent the handshake and, instead, hugged the Latina who was more than receptive. "Thank you. I was so sorry I had to miss your wedding. Stupid surgeries."

Callie laughed. Becca sounded like someone who would be best friends with her wife. "Trust me, we both understood."

Grinning, Becca nodded. "I know you do. And later, you're going to show me all the pictures of your pretty little baby girl, right?"

This left Arizona and Maura standing there, grinning at each other. Arizona closed the gap between them and chastely hugged her ex-girlfriend. "Maura, it's really good to see you."

Maura had forgotten how free both Arizona and Becca were with physical affections. She was grateful she didn't freeze up inside Arizona's casual embrace. Fleetingly, Maura guessed that the exuberant Rizzoli's were rubbing off on her.

"It's wonderful to see you, too, Arizona. You look wonderful. And your dress!" Maura stepped back to eye Arizona's purple cocktail dress. "Eileen Fisher's summer line?"

Arizona threw her head back and laughed, a sound that delighted Callie, whatever the cause. "Oh, Maura," she crooned. "You always did have a good eye. I've _missed _you."

"You, too," Maura responded softly, realizing how much she had, in fact, missed this woman. Turning to Callie, and surprised by her sudden case of anxiety, Maura fell back on years of social training. "Dr. Torres, correct? I've read of your cartilage research. It's very impressive."

"Thanks," Callie responded, taking Maura's offered hand, instantly relaxed by Maura's own obvious nerves. "And it's Callie."

"Or Calliope," Arizona chirped, nudging her wife.

"Callie," the brunette repeated, even as she twined her hand with Arizona's. "You help catch killers, right? Must be very rewarding."

"It is," Maura agreed, intrigued by the note of sincerity she heard in Callie's voice. "It is rewarding. Every time."

"Hey!" Becca chimed in, pulling Maura and Callie into the throng. "No dead people at my wedding!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Something Old, Something New (Chapter 2 of ?)**

**Authors: Roughian and ForeverLeyton**

**Rating: R this time, no matter how badly we wanted to push it to NC-17.**

**Fandom: Crossover: Rizzoli and Isles/Callie and Arizona**

**Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected: Callie meets Arizona's favorite ex; Maura's got an itch Jane wants to scratch. Oh, and there's a murder, too.**

**A/N ForeverLeyton:** Yep, only day between updates. We can't promise every update will happen so quickly (we both have to work eventually, after all) but suffice it to say we are as excited about this fic as you all seem to be. Also, to **taintedidealist**, Roughian will add her own thanks, but a personal (and belated) thank you from me. Your very-helpful e-mail on partner writing helped us start one of the most entertaining writing processes I've experienced. Thank you, sincerely!

**A/N roughian:** Thanks for all your feedback, we're loving it. We're having a blast, and we hope you guys are too. Thanks, also, to **taintedidealist**. Very awesome of you to share with us your ways of awesomeness.

* * *

><p>The sound of distant ringing jarred Jane out of one of the most peaceful night's sleep she'd had in years. The detective was in the same spot she'd fallen asleep in, duvet and sheets cocooning around her in an indulgently comfortable nest. One eye opened, spying the blurry 8:34 on the digital clock. Whomever this was, it'd better be good.<p>

Her hand felt around the nightstand, gently pushing aside her badge and gun to get to her phone. She answered it, and then tucked both arms back under the covers, letting the phone balance against the side of her head that wasn't buried in the pillow.

"Rizzoli," the brunette croaked.

"Jane, are you sleeping? I'm sorry."

"Not sleepin' if I'm talking to you, Maura. If I could do that I'd be much more pleasant at work."

Maura laughed. "I was calling to ask if you're sure you wouldn't like to come with me to the wedding. It's an open bar. I'm sure they'll have your beer there."

"Mm, no more bribing me to go to fancy functions with food and booze, Maur. Need I remind you of the fish knife incident?"

The ME grimaced. "No, you need not."

"Besides, it's poker night at Korsak's and Frost cleaned up last week. I need to show that little shit who's boss."

Maura sighed. "Suit yourself. It was a lovely rehearsal dinner. You would have really gotten along well with Becca's fiancé. He enjoys baseball and whisky. And he talks with his hands, kind of like your mother has a tendency to do."

Jane wrinkled her brows. "Thanks, I think. Glad your party was nice." She paused for a moment, waking up a little faster with the memory of Maura's news. "And how was your uh, old pal, Carolina?"

"Very funny, Jane. Arizona was well. So was her new wife. I think you would have liked her, too."

"The wife? Or your former Sapphic lov—uh, girlfriend?" Jane was teasing but she still couldn't bring herself to use the word _lover_. Not about Maura and another woman, for God's sake.

"Callie, Arizona's wife," Maura answered. "Though you'd probably like Arizona as well, after a while."

"After a while?"

"Yes, well, she's…peppy, I suppose you would say. It takes some people a while to get used to her. But her wife, Callie, she's…I can't describe it but in a way she reminds me of you. Booming laugh and she's a lot of fun but there seems to be…a bit of an edge to her. Like there is with you."

"So, basically, you're saying she's a bad ass?"

Maura laughed and Jane could hear the scratch of her earring against the phone as she nodded her head in agreement. "I guess you could call her that. If you came to the wedding, you would see for yourself."

"Poker night," Jane reminded her, rolling over in bed and brushing long curls out of her face. "Now, stop stalling, Maur. You know what I want to know."

"I don't read minds, Jane," Maura replied primly, even they both knew she was absolutely certain what Jane wanted to discuss.

"Uh huh. You're going to make me ask, aren't you?"

"Yes, I think I will."

"Fine. So. You, uh, you…and her…and, um, shit."

"It's not that difficult, Jane. You told me once your favorite cousin on your father's side is homosexual. I know you're not homophobic."

"Hey, whoa! This isn't about Sal and his string of boyfriends. It's not even about being gay, which…I mean…are you?" But before Maura could respond to that question, Jane hurried on. "No. It's not about that. It's about you and…and a _girl._"

"I' don't define myself by society's constructs for sexuality. I suppose some would say I'm bisexual, but I prefer to let love happen regardless of the sex," Maura responded, smirking into the phone. She enjoyed flustering the brunette sometimes. It was just... so easy.

"Whoa, whoa. No one's talking about sex. No one." Jane said, sitting up in bed. Comfy position be damned.

"That's not what I meant. I meant sex in terms of male or female," Maura chided. "Although, Arizona was a wonderful lover. Very attentive."

Jane was blushing something fierce, happy that her friend was unable to see it and make some unintentionally smart-ass comment. "Is it... different?"

"Sort of, yes. But I think what I loved most about that relationship was the companionship. I haven't found a friend like that in a long time. Well, not until I met you, of course. Arizona was always kind, well-spoken, thoughtful—"

"Until you met me?" Jane interrupted with a softer tone, more invested in Maura's response than she'd ever imagine.

"Yes, you're wonderful companionship, despite your brash outlook and deplorable wardrobe."

Jane chuckled, amused despite her inner turmoil. "Thanks, Maura. You aren't half bad yourself."

* * *

><p>Arizona pushed into the Paramount in Beacon Hill and breathed deeply. She held the door open for Callie behind her as her senses swam among the scents and sounds of warm baked bread, grinding coffee beans and fresh greens sizzling in melting butter. "Welcome home," she whispered to herself quietly, instantly reverted to the many Sunday mornings she had spent in exactly this spot.<p>

Turning to grin at her wife, Arizona moaned, "Believe me, your meal will be worth that artery you hear clogging already. I promise."

Callie laughed and motioned to the hostess for a booth by the window. "Don't worry about me. You're the one who feeds our daughter homemade organic squash. Although, it's nice you've finally found something you can cook; even if is only mush."

Arizona, long accustomed to this line of sarcasm, did not dignify that comment with a response. Instead, she slid into the booth and surprised Callie by patting the seat next to her. "Sit by me," she implored, batting her eyes at Callie in an exaggerated flirtation.

Standing by the booth, Callie rolled her eyes at her wife and shook her head. "Seriously? We're going to be _that _couple? I hate that couple."

"What couple?"

"You know, the one who squeezes together on one side of the booth when there's a perfectly fine seat open across the table."

"Calliope," Arizona whined, patting her seat once more. "Sit next to me." Lowering her voice she added, "How else am I supposed to whisper sweet nothings in your ear?"

"Sweet nothings," Callie scoffed but she moved into the seat next to Arizona. "Dork."

"You love it."

"I must," Callie agreed. "Enough that I kept my mouth shut and didn't cause a scene when Ray's cousin, uh, Jason called my wife a "hot piece.""

"Ugghh," Arizona groaned. "He was drunk. Besides, Jason's an ass. He was Tim's friend when they were like twelve and he was a kind-of surrogate son for my dad, ages ago. Mom found him charming but, honestly, he's always been a bit of a jerk." Smiling at the young waitress when she dropped off the steaming mugs of coffee Callie had ordered, Arizona continued, "Mom says he's had a rough go lately. Lost some money in the crash, split from his wife. I don't know. Dad won't talk about it so something must be going on there."

"Hmm," Callie responded noncommittally, distracted by the prospect of a tomato, basil and mozzarella omelet in her near future. "I got the ass vibe," she murmured. "Especially when he tried to start a conversation with your girl Maura and she froze him out, no problem. Cool and casual."

"Yep," Arizona grinned. "That's Maur. Speaking of, what did you think of her?" Arizona asked slyly. She knew she wouldn't fool her wife but oh, how she loved yanking this particular chain.

Callie shrugged her shoulders, taking a tentative sip from the steaming mug before her. She set it down, ripping open a packet of raw sugar and stirring it into the dark roast. "She seemed smart, and poised. Like she'd gone to finishing school. Knew just what to do in lulls of conversation. Oh, and, you were right," the Latina beamed over the mug of her coffee, complete with a wag of her brows. "Quite a looker. If you're into tiny sandy-blondes with impeccable fashion sense and killer calves."

Arizona sipped from her own mug after dumping so much creamer into the coffee that, not only was it brimming, but also it was a pale tan color now. "She probably did go to finishing school. Her parents are like that."

"What, snobby dipshits?" Callie grimaced.

"Callie," Arizona smirked. "Are you jealous?"

"Pfft, no. Why would I be jealous?" The brunette dismissed the idea quickly. "I'm just saying, she doesn't really look like me, ya know?"

Arizona grinned as she pressed a soft kiss against Callie's cheek. "Mm, I definitely know. I think I might have mentioned just how gorgeous I think you are once or twice last night."

Instantly softened by her wife's charm, Callie let off a goofy giggle. "Mm, yeah, I think you did, too. Especially when you were doing that..._thing_."

"What thing?" Arizona murmured, eyes lidding. "Oh! _That _thing. Yes. Probably a bad time to tell you I got that from Maura?"

Callie nearly sputtered her coffee onto the scrubbed wooden table beneath them, catching herself and swallowing hurriedly. "That's something I never had to know for the rest of my life," she mumbled, wiping her mouth free of rogue coffee droplets. After a few moments, a smile stretched across her face. "You know, whatever, it's hot. And I totally got the girl, so I win."

"You do, huh?" Arizona smiled, tracing her fingertips against Callie's wrist. "What do you win?"

"Another round of everything we did last night, complete with you being loud, too." Callie sighed, wistfully. "I've missed noisy sex."

Blushing into her coffee cup, Arizona giggled as the waitress stopped shy of their table, trying to hide the smirk she was sporting at overhearing their conversation.

"Callie!" Arizona admonished when the blushing girl took their order and moved away from the table.

Callie only laughed. "Pay back's a bitch, huh? Got any more _stories _about Dr. Isles you want to share now?"

Arizona shook her head and kicked Callie gently beneath the table. "Let's make a deal—I don't tell you the things Maura taught me, you don't tell the restaurant that I like to scream during sex."

"Done," Callie agreed.

"And scoot over," Arizona added, squirming between the window and Callie in her seat. "You're in my space."

Callie laughed again and squished her wife into the shared booth an inch more. "Your idea," she reminded Arizona. "Besides, I plan on being 'in your space' all weekend long. I wouldn't bother complaining about it now."

At that promise Arizona stopped squirming and twined her ankle over Callie's beneath the booth. "Yeah? You know, since my parents are out of town, we're completely free on Sunday." Lowering her voice, Arizona pressed her mouth close to Callie's ear. "You're not leaving that bed. Not once."

Callie shivered when Arizona's warm breath steamed down her neck. "Done," she said again.

* * *

><p>Maura had been waiting in the reception's ridiculously long line for a cocktail for what felt like an hour. She was close enough to spy the liquor bottles behind the bar, impressed with the caliber of their selection. When she spotted the emerald bottle of Tanqueray she quickly made her mind up that there would be no wine tonight. It felt like a gin night.<p>

A familiar giggle shook her out of her reverie and she shifted her attention to the sound. Arizona and her wife were just coming off of the dance floor, cheeks flushed and glasses empty. Callie had her hand on the small of Arizona's back while the blonde stepped back into her heels.

"Manolo's?" Maura smiled, gesturing toward the shoes. When she caught Callie's, she grinned even wider. "And Louboutins?"

Callie grinned, "Yeah. Arizona has a bit of a shoe fetish. Both for herself and me."

"Oh, I definitely recall that," Maura smirked as the line moved along. "And your dresses."

The ME gestured to Callie's dress, a red number with capped sleeves and a flattering square neckline, as well as Arizona's formfitting cobalt bridesmaids gown made of delicately beaded silk.

"Amazing. Becca certainly knew what would work for you, Arizona, and Callie, that Ralph Lauren is gorgeous."

Callie smiled. "Thanks, you look great, too. You know, if this whole medical examiner thing doesn't pan out, you definitely could host a _What Not To Wear_ spin-off on television."

Maura laughed coquettishly, missing the reference entirely but covering her confusion with well-practiced politeness.

"It's a show where a pair of designers help the fashion-challenged," Arizona elaborated gently, watching Maura's face light up at the explanation.

"Ah, well then thank you, Callie," Maura grinned, bowing her head toward the Latina. "Lord knows Jane gives me enough practice in that department."

Sidling close to Maura, effectively (and brilliantly in Callie's opinion) cutting into the bar line, Arizona hooked her arm through the ME's and drawled, "Jane, huh? Do tell."

"Jane's…Oh," Maura trailed off with a nervous grin, catching the implication in Arizona's tone. "No. It's not like that. Or not—" Maura cut herself off and shook her head firmly before repeating, "It's not like that. Jane is a homicide detective with the Boston Police Department. We work together. And," she added when Arizona continued to smile at her, "we're friends. Good friends. Best friends," Maura couldn't help adding smugly because the term 'best friend' was so new to her personal vocabulary.

"Mmhm," Arizona hummed, cocking her head to consider her friend. "Nope," she decided with a firm shake of her head. From behind her, Callie laughed at her wife's certain denial.

"Nope?" Maura repeated. "Nope, what?"

"Nope, not gonna buy it," Arizona sang, motioning to Maura to move up in line. She waited patiently while Maura ordered her gin and tonic, smiling delightedly when Maura graciously asked the bartender to make three of the same. Once the drinks were passed over, Arizona continued in her best sing-songing voice, "You've got a crush." Winking at her wife, Arizona added, "Calliope, Maura's got a crush."

Caught up in Arizona's enthusiasm (and, yes, happy to hear the crush in question was not a long-held love for her wife), Callie grinned and tapped her glass to Maura's. "Definitely a crush. Sexy cop with an attitude, right?" Callie guessed, borrowing from every crime drama she had ever sat through with Mark. "I can see that working for you."

"Ooohh," Arizona squealed, instantly picking up where Callie left off. "Yes! I bet she's all…tough but vulnerable? Strong but with a soft side. God, Maur, that would _totally_ work for you. No wonder you're in love."

Maura had been mildly amused by Arizona and Callie's banter, appreciating how the two women so obviously understood and enjoyed each other. But the mention of the word 'love' sent her own Louboutins skidding across the dance floor. "Love?"

Arizona recognized the panicked look that etched across Maura's features, her own brows furrowing as she pinched the cocktail straw and sipped daintily from her glass. Glancing toward Callie, who had already begun dancing in place again, the blonde gently asked, "Would you give us a second, Callie?"

The Latina, already tipsy, watched a cluster of miniature crab cakes pass by on a server's tray. "Oh, I see crab cakes. Take all the seconds you need."

Arizona grinned as she watched her wife scamper away (as best she could in four inch heels) and turned to the medical examiner again. "Sorry if we were out of line, we were just being silly. Not meant to be taken offensively."

Maura shook her head. "No, Arizona, I know. It's just—" she paused, sipped her drink and sighed some. "It's, well, I don't know where to place Jane in terms of categorizing her. Best friend seems to fit, but I've never had many of those." The ME waved her hand impatiently. "This is not conversation suited for a wedding reception."

Arizona placed a calming hand on Maura's bare shoulder, rubbing her thumb across the skin there. "Hey, it's just me. That Cha-Cha Slide is so loud these people can't hear their own thoughts."

Maura laughed, nodding in agreement.

"Do you think it's more than friendship?" Arizona asked, tone full of the concern she hoped came across as sincere.

"I don't know," Maura blushed, eyelids fluttering as she looked down. "We're very close, but Jane is very..."

"Straight?" Arizona offered.

"That and I don't think, if there were hypothetical feelings, which I'm not confirming," the ME cocked her head, "but then again I'm not really denying them either..."

"Maura," Arizona said, hoping to get the woman back on track.

"I'm just saying that I don't think Jane feels that way. I casually mentioned that an ex-girlfriend of mine would be in attendance at this wedding and she was blushing so much I wondered if she was going to suffer from cerebral apoplexy."

Arizona subdued a bark of laughter at the way her friend's mind worked. "It's new for her, Maura. Unchartered waters—"

"You sound like the Colonel," Maura laughed lightly.

Arizona ignored her attempts to change the subject. "It was new for you too at one point. I remember you being super blush-y and nervous the first few dates of ours, but it turned out ok. More than ok. Maybe she just needs some time to process."

"Maybe, or maybe I'm…what's that expression? Counting my roosters before they lay eggs. Except roosters don't lay eggs," she continued, instantly distracted until Arizona reeled her in with another squeeze of her shoulder.

Arizona smirked, shaking her head some. "She'd be foolish to turn you down, Maura. You're super. Awesome," she added with a you-know-me grin.

Maura smiled back at her ex-girlfriend and gave in to her enthusiasm. "Thank you, Arizona. I really like Callie, by the way. She seems perfect for you. And you seem happy."

Arizona grinned. "I am. Very happy."

Maura lifted her glass and Arizona clinked it merrily against her own. "Well, then that's what we should be talking about."

* * *

><p>Maura stayed by Arizona's side for as long as politeness dictated, laughing along with the blonde when Callie urged Ray into the center of the floor for a dance. As soon as she was able, however, Maura excused herself and snuck off to the bathroom, more affected by her conversation with Arizona than she cared to admit.<p>

No, questions of sexuality didn't frighten Maura. But Jane did. Having feelings for Jane, intimate feelings, feelings she had tried to deny—to hide behind men with impressive adductor and iliopsoas muscles—for a long time now, those feelings terrified the doctor. Almost as much as they exhilarated her.

So, yes, she was hiding in the bathroom for a minute.

Pulling herself together in front of the bathroom sink, and chiding herself lightly, Maura dropped a tube of lipstick back into her small bag and snapped it shut with an audible click. _You can think about Jane Rizzoli tomorrow, Maura, _she ordered her image in the mirror. _Everyone knows you're going to anyway._

Maura laughed at her own internal honesty. Apparently even lying to herself was an impossibility. _Now go back to your friends and stop this nonsense._

Maura squared her shoulders defiantly and forced herself out of the bathroom, determined to find Susan and spend a few minutes catching up with her old friend. Arizona had confided that Susan's marriage, a college romance that no one expected to survive medical school, was dissolving in a particularly nasty divorce and that Susan and her young child were considering a fresh start in Maura's neighborhood.

Moving out of the bathroom with purpose and renewed confidence, Maura was startled from her own thoughts of real estate opportunities when she heard an angry voice mutter, "—I'm hearing SEC, Whitestone. I'm hearing bankruptcy. I'm _hearing," _he emphasized, _"felony_."

Maura peeked around the corner, her heart pounding an audible beat by her clandestine spying. Near the door to the men's restroom, huddled in a corner, she found three men arguing in shout-whispers. The oldest, a man she didn't know but who's voice matched the one she had first overheard, was holding another by the lapels of his Calvin Klein jacket, jerking the man close with each accentuated word. Narrowing her eyes, Maura realized with a jolt that the individual in trouble was Ray's slimy second cousin. She couldn't recall his name—Jay, Joseph, something—but she remembered clearly the man's too-strong flirtations from the night before.

Maura was debating whether to step away or somehow intervene when the third man, someone Maura recognized as one of the groomsmen, demanded, "I want my money, dickwad, and I want it before the end of the evening. And, I swear to God, if this shit goes down like Madoff, you are going to wish the SEC would put your ass in jail."

With a final push that made Maura pause to pity a man she had so comfortably shot down, the angry men strode down the hallway, barely giving Maura time to hustle back into the crowd unseen.

* * *

><p>Back on the dance floor, Maura found favor chatting with Becca's parents, forgetting that bizarre scene in light of the Parsons' reminiscing about their "Hopkins girls" who were often fixtures at the Parsons' table for holidays parties or summer vacations. The ME was just launching into a retelling of the Christmas Eve debacle during their last year of medical school when she heard a shrill yell cut through the Chicken Dance.<p>

"Jason, it's always about you. And the women. This woman has been following you around like a sad puppy the entire night." Carolyn Flynn (formerly Whitestone) gestured to Susan who stared back, wide-eyed. "It's floozies and money with you, Jason Whitestone. That's what makes your perfectly conniving little world go round!"

"Holy," Callie murmured, sidling up beside Maura on her way to the bar. "That is so freaking inappropriate at a wedding."

Maura nodded, knowing she shouldn't stare, but the gin and tonics had begun to numb her manners.

"But kind of horribly fabulous, right?" Callie added, unconcerned by her own obvious staring.

They both watched as Ray left the gaggle of dancing groomsmen, attempting to calm his cousin down with some inaudible words and a pat to his shoulder. Whatever Ray whispered sent Jason's ex wife into a further tailspin, however, and she lunged toward her former spouse with a frighteningly predatory look.

"Oh, wow," Arizona added, spying Callie frozen in place next to Maura, attentions trained on the scene.

Suddenly one of the groomsman looped his arms around Carolyn's waist, lassoing the feisty woman even as she flailed and kicked, continuing to scream insults in Jason's direction. "Vile, disgusting, pig of a man. You're going to rot in hell." She didn't quiet until hotel security entered the ballroom, breaking up the fight before it got any worse.

"Oh my," Maura said, watching the bulky security guard haul dainty Carolyn Flynn outside, her yells echoing until she got out the door. "Ray's cousin seems to be having a particularly poor day today."

"Yeah?" Callie glanced at Maura with an unabashedly amused grin. Clearly the gin was talking when she shrugged and said, "Good. Arizona says he's an ass anyway."

"Total ass," Arizona confirmed. "Never could stand him." They all three watched as Jason, left with nothing else to do, murmured a quick word of apology to Ray and Becca before excusing himself to slip off in the direction of the men's restroom. No one said a word until the silence was broken by a vibrating buzz coming from some mysteriously hidden location beneath Callie's dress.

"Crap," Callie sighed, kicking back the last sip of her drink. "That's going to be Mark—he's the only one set to vibrate. I'll just, ah—" Callie pointed towards the exit with a sheepish grin. "I'll take it outside."

Watching her wife sneak off, Arizona leaned towards Maura and confided, "She can't get to her phone at the moment. Not without giving that staring usher over there the show he's been waiting for all night."

Maura's eyes widened dramatically, even as a laugh bubbled from her chest. "Where does she keep it, exactly?" Maura asked curiously.

"You wish you knew," Arizona giggled before suddenly smacking a flat palm against her forehead. "Did she say Mark?"

"Yes," Maura replied. "He's Sofia's father, correct?"

"Yeah," Arizona answered, already moving to follow her wife. "He's the dad and he's got her for the weekend. I better—"

"Go," Maura waved her off with a smile she'd never admit was envious. "Go make sure everything's ok."

"Thanks," Arizona waved, halfway out the door. "I _knew _I shoulda brought the iPad," she muttered to herself.

* * *

><p>When Arizona hurried outside the reception hall, blinking against the unexpected darkness, she found her wife leaning casually against a brick wall, tucked away from the bustling road by the shade of a large, hanging Willow tree.<p>

"Calliope," Arizona breathed, halting directly in front of her wife. Noticing the phone resting silently in Callie's hand, Arizona asked, "Is everything ok? Mark? Sofia? What's going on?"

Callie glanced at her phone and giggled (a sound only alcohol could produce), "Two minutes. It took you two whole minutes to realize that the Seattle sky could be falling."

"Calliope," Arizona repeated, this time with a small stomp of her foot. "Why did Mark call?"

"Because," Callie drawled, clamping her hands to her wife's waist and pulling Arizona into her body. "He wanted to know if the purple chupo would be ok after Sofia _accidently _threw her pink one down the garbage chute."

"She—What?" Arizona asked but she lifted a hand to halt Callie's response. "Wait. What the heck does the color of the chupo have to do with anything?"

"Pretty much what I said," Callie laughed, tugging Arizona close once more. "And so the crisis is averted. Now," she added before Arizona could interrupt, "how long do you suppose I have to stand here, all alone, in the dark, wrapped up in this ridiculously tight dress, before you kiss me?"

Reaching up to tuck her fingertips carefully beneath the square neckline of Callie's said ridiculously tight dress, Arizona laughed. "I'm guessing about three minutes," she whispered before leaning forward to capture Callie's lips with hers.

Callie loved drunk-Arizona kisses. She always tasted so good: salty when it was tequila, sweet when it was wine and indescribably delicious when it was gin. The hints of citrusy fruit and a crisp bite, coupled with the blonde's uncanny ability to turn the Latina's knees to Jell-o as soon as they started making out, was always far more intoxicating than the beverages in question.

Arizona moaned softly when she felt Callie's tongue slide into her mouth and the taller woman press her back against the tree, roughly pulling her closer by the hips. The blonde responded by wrapping her arms around Callie's shoulders, digging her nails into strong musculature through the dress.

Callie broke the kiss only to tip Arizona's head back, rewarding that creamy neck with kisses and smearing her lipstick (as if she cared). "I wanna take you back to the hotel," she panted. Arizona moaned, not stopping Callie's wandering hand from breaching the skirt of her dress, ghosting along her inner thighs.

"Mm. Let's say our goodbyes, quickly, then you can take me," she groaned, feeling Callie's teeth sink into her neck.

"Can I take you here?" Callie asked. "No one's around."

The blonde hissed in a breath when Callie's nails dragged up the tender flesh of her inner thigh, moving dangerously close to the fancy panties she'd worn to surprise the Latina with later. "Mm, you drive a h-hard bargain."

"That's not all I can do that's hard... and maybe fast," Callie whispered against the shell of Arizona's ear.

"Calliope," Arizona gasped, at this point ready to do whatever her wife wanted. Her eyes fluttered open to look out for surprise on-lookers (the usher). Instead, what she saw had her pulling away from her wife with a shocked gasp. A man, his once-crisp white shirt now stained with blood, came stumbling out of the alley between the hotel and an office building. He clutched his side, groaning, his face contorted in pain.

Disentangling from Callie's embrace quickly, Arizona's instinct kicked in as she started towards the man. Callie, swiftly turning around and realizing what had taken Arizona from her, immediately followed suit.

"Oh my God, it's Jason," Arizona gasped, heels clipping against the pavement as she followed him as fast as she could in the restrictive footwear, watching him trip and then fall. "Jason, are you okay? What happened?"

"Stabbed," he sputtered, coughing up a spray of blood onto the ruching of Arizona's bridesmaid's dress.

"Okay, stay with me. Just stay with me," Arizona soothed, stabilizing the man's head. "Someone call 9-1-1! " She shouted to the valets who gathered at the sound of so much commotion. Then, with a remarkable calm, she added softly, "And Callie, go get Maura."

Callie nodded spinning towards the entrance. She didn't stop, even when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the black edge of a satin cape, flapping in the breeze as someone swiftly rounded the street corner.


	3. Chapter 3

**Something Old, Something New (Chapter 3 of ?)**

**Authors: Roughian and ForeverLeyton**

**Rating: NC-17. Barely.**

**Fandom: Crossover: Rizzoli and Isles/Callie and Arizona**

**Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected: Callie meets Arizona's favorite ex; Maura's got an itch Jane wants to scratch. Oh, and there's a murder, too.**

**Chapter 3 Summary: **Maura and Jane talk complementary couples, Barry discovers there are a lot of people who wanted our victim dead, an unexpected suspect is brought into the investigation, and Callie and Arizona just can't catch a break.

* * *

><p>Jane angled between the police cars and crime scene vehicles, trying to get through the mass amount of caution tape roping off the main event. She ducked under the plastic yellow ribbon feeling like a boxer stepping into the ring for a fight she was never sure she'd win. She found Maura, bedecked in a pretty (albeit bloodied) dress, knelt beside the body, sheet lifted so she could study the lacerations across his torso.<p>

Jane smirked ruefully, crossing her arms over her faded green Celtics t-shirt, watching as Maura turned her head to give her the same smirk. "I got the feeling I was winning too much at poker night."

Maura shrugged her shoulders, hazel eyes wide with a sadness her smile couldn't cover. "This is really terrible. Becca and Ray are emotional wrecks, and all the guests having to evacuate..."

Jane shook her head as she crouched down beside her friend. As much as she didn't want to attend this hoity-toity shindig, no one deserved a wedding interrupted by a murder. "I'm so sorry, Maur," the detective murmured, sincerity deeply engrained in her tone as she put a glove-clad hand on the ME's bare shoulder.

"It's alright," Maura replied, shaking off the tears filling her eyes and quickly shifting into work-mode. "I can't really tell the extent of the damage here, but if I had to guess, I would say exsanguination due to multiple lacerations."

Jane studied the body as well as the blood pooled beneath it. "I'd say your guess is right, but I won't tell anyone," she finished with a wink, never able to resist that joke.

While Maura used a tech's ruler to measure the jagged entry wound in the victim's left side, Jane glanced around her surroundings. Despite a few well-dressed gawkers, Jane didn't notice anything different from her average crime scene. Except the presence of two women inside the secured scene, both huddled beneath wool hospital blankets and talking to a paramedic.

Turning to Maura Jane asked, "Was someone else hurt?" At Maura's quizzical glance, the detective nodded towards the two women. Even from the distance, she could see the blonde woman's pretty blue dress was stained purple by blood. "To the left, blonde covered in blood, talking to Scotty from Boston Memorial."

"Oh," Maura sighed, as she carefully lifted herself from her knees to her feet, not wobbling once in the spindly heels. She straightened out the skirt of her dress and motioned to Michael, her young and eager lab assistant, silently instructing him to take over her examination of the body. Moving to stand next to Jane, Maura said, "That's Arizona, the blonde, sitting with Callie, her wife. They were outside when Jason, ah, the victim, came out of the alley."

"Wait," Jane held up a hand, squinting slightly to study the blonde more closely. "_That's _Arizona? Arizona Robbins? As in your ex-girlfriend Arizona?"

"I hardly think there'd be two Arizona's at one wedding, Jane. Yes, Arizona R—Wait, how do you know her name is Arizona _Robbins_?"

_Not because I ran her this morning, _Jane thought. _Nope, definitely not._ "You must have mentioned it," she hedged.

"I'm quite sure I didn't," Maura returned but she was quickly distracted by the intent way Jane gazed towards Arizona and Callie. "But, yes, that is Arizona, my ex girlfriend. And her wife. Why?"

_Gorgeous,_ is what ran through Jane's mind. _She's freaking gorgeous. _Out loud she sighed and murmured, "Small f-ing world. Two witnesses to our guy's death and they just happen to be your ex-girlfriend and her wife. Fuck me."

"Jane," Maura began, resting a firm hand on Jane's forearm. "You don't think…You can't believe that—"

"That your lesbians flew all the way to Boston to kill a man? No," she shook her head firmly, carefully squeezing Maura's hand over her arm. "But I've got to play this by the book. I'm going to go talk to your friends, Maura."

"Hold on," Maura said, casting one more glance at Jason Whitestone's body before chasing after Jane's long strides. "I'm coming with you."

"Maura Isles is leaving a body unattended," Jane smirked. "You feeling okay?"

"Yes, fine," Maura answered, puzzled as she trailed the sneaker-clad Jane to where the couple was sitting. "Why?"

"Hey, Scotty, could ya give us a minute?" Jane asked softly.

Scotty excused himself, unneeded since neither woman was actually injured.

Jane glanced down at the women. "I'm Detective Jane Rizzoli. I know you've been through a lot this evening but I need to ask you a couple questions."

_Oh thank god_, Maura thought. _It's good cop tonight._

"Right here and now, detective?" Callie asked, tone remaining calm despite how frayed her nerves actually were. "We've had a difficult night."

"I know, and I'm sorry about this," Jane continued. She nodded towards the blood on the blonde's dress. "How'd that happen?"

"It happened when she tried to save a man's—"

"Callie," Arizona interrupted her defensive wife with a soft squeeze to her knee. "It's fine, baby. We know how this works."

Turning her chin up to face Jane, Arizona sighed, "We were, um, out here…over there," she clarified, pointing towards the Willow tree. "He came…he, uh, he stumbled out of the alley and he was covered in blood. I saw the blood right away. I ran over, put pressure on his side but, God, there was blood coming from all over. Everywhere. I started CPR but…maybe if I'd been in a hospital," Arizona shrugged, her head dropping into her hands.

"Arizona—" Callie and Maura both began but it was Jane who caught Arizona's attention with a steady gaze and a firm tone. "Dr. Robbins. I just came from the body. There was nothing you could do." Kneeling down to Arizona's level, Jane repeated. "Nothing. Now, why don't you tell me what you two were doing outside when, I've heard, there was a perfectly good bar inside?"

Arizona started blushing immediately. "Um, actually. We were uh…" She swallowed the lump in her throat. Something about Jane triggered instant feelings of that all too familiar authority complex. "Talking."

"You sound…hesitant?" Jane queried. Glancing at Maura, Jane caught a knowing grin stretched across the ME's lips but she couldn't guess the meaning behind it. What she did know, however, was that she wasn't getting the full story. "It's—listen, girls, it's in your best interest to be completely honest with me right now."

"What my wife is so gently skating around, Detective, is that we were making out against that tree." Callie pointed to the Willow in question, surprisingly amused by her wife's discomfort and Jane's obvious cluelessness. "Arizona saw Jason stumble out over my shoulder."

"Oh. You were…oh. Over there…um, oh. Ok," Jane nodded, rising back from her haunches in a rush. Oddly disconcerted, she quickly resorted to the familiar comfort of cop-speak. "Did you notice anyone else? Maybe someone in the alley, or running away?"

"No. No one," Arizona shook her head automatically. "The valets were over there," she pointed to the other side of the building, "when I first came out. I, ah, I didn't notice them after…after a while."

_A while. How long were they—no, don't think about _that _Rizzoli. _Shaking her head to clear it, Jane glanced towards the valets and recognized Officer Valletti already taking their statements. She was about to suggest the couple go back to their hotel when she noticed Callie chewing on her bottom lip, as though considering her words carefully. Speaking deliberately and directly to the brunette, Jane asked, "What about you, Mrs., um, Callie? Did you see anything that seemed unusual? Even if you aren't certain it's related, it's best if you—"

"If I tell you everything. I get it. I've seen _Law and Order_," Callie smiled sheepishly. "When he came out, Arizona saw him first. She ran right to him," Callie explained, squeezing Arizona's hand in hers. "I didn't know what was going on so I sort of, um, spun around, you know? Like 'what the hell'?"

"Yeah. I get that. It's normal," Jane nodded.

"Ok. I guess. So I saw, um, God, this sounds crazy. In my head, it sounds crazy. I saw a black cape, sw—I guess swishing is the word, around the corner of that other building over there," Callie admitted, pointing to the office high rise on the other side of the alley.

"A black _cape_?" Jane asked again. Even Maura and Arizona looked doubtful.

"I know! It's ridiculous but I would swear—it looked like a cape! Black and shiny with, I don't know, maybe satin around the bottom."

"A cape," Jane repeated, dragging a weary hand through her curly hair. Half to herself she muttered, "Next the blonde's going to tell me there were masked vigilantes in the ballroom."

"Hey!" Callie exclaimed but she couldn't stop a small laugh. "You said to tell you everything!"

"You did say that, Jane," Maura agreed solemnly.

"I did," Jane acquiesced. "We'll look into the cape. In the meantime, you're obviously tired." She ignored Callie's mild eye roll at that comment. "Why don't we do this? I'm going to get one of my guys, ah my brother, Frankie, a cop, to take you back to the hotel. You two take a shower, clean up; try to calm down. Maura and I will get the body to the morgue."

But," she added when she caught Callie's relieved sigh, "I'm going to need a full statement from you both. I'll be back at the hotel in a few hours. I know you are exhausted but, please, try to stay awake," Jane ordered, already moving towards a young uniformed officer.

Thoroughly enjoying an unusually flustered Jane, Maura smiled at Arizona before she turned to follow Jane. Lowering her voice so she wouldn't be overheard, Maura whispered, "I'm sure they can find something to keep them occupied, _Detective_."

She laughed as Jane stumbled to a choking halt.

* * *

><p>Jane stood beside the body of Jason Whitehouse, watching as Maura carefully examined the wounds scattered across the man's chest and abdomen. There were a lot of them, or at least it seemed that way to Jane. The detective, not usually nauseated by the sight of dead bodies, felt a churning in her gut at the sheer number, shaking her head rapidly to try to get the image out of her mind's eye.<p>

Maura's eyebrows knitted behind her protective goggles as she counted the lacerations in her head. "This is quite gruesome," Maura murmured. "He's been stabbed almost twenty times. Judging from the angles and the distance between wounds, it wouldn't be far off to suggest there were two people involved in the stabbing. But of course, I can't know that for sure. And I certainly won't guess."

"Two murderers," Jane breathed. "What the hell did this guy do?"

"He did seem quite unpopular. I saw him fighting with two men at the wedding. Overheard something about the SEC and then someone demanding their money—"

"People get ugly over money," Jane confirmed. "Frost is running a check on the vic now. We'll see what he comes up with," Jane promised, turning her head as she watched Maura begin to probe gently in one of the wounds.

"Judging by the magnitude of these stab wounds and how quickly this man died, Arizona wouldn't have had time to kill him," Maura added quietly as she straightened and pulled the sheet over Jason's body.

"I don't think your friend did this, Maura. But I do need a statement from her. It's procedure. I think I was pretty fair."

Maura smiled. "I know. Thank you." She pulled off her gloves and undid her gown, throwing both into the red bin marked "Biohazard," before moving to the sink to wash her hands. Jane followed suit, waiting beside Maura.

"Besides, the last time you had an ex in a case it turned out to be—"

"I remember Jane, thank you," Maura said, realizing immediately how stiff her tone may have come off and shaking her head. "I'm sorry. It's been a very trying evening. This is really not how I imagined a reunion with my friends would go."

"I bet," Jane nodded understandingly. "Sucks all around. Just think of the press—how many times do you think the vultures will try to use the phrase "Till death do us part"?"

"Using that line would be wildly inaccurate reporting. It is a quote from the traditional wedding pledge after all. Jason wasn't the one taking vows today. Actually," Maura added, remembering how Carolyn Flynn behaved at the reception, "I'm pretty sure his own vows didn't make it to his death."

"Yeah?" Jane asked resting her hip against Maura's desk after they wandered into her office. "What makes you say that?"

"His wife—or maybe she's an ex wife? I'm not certain," Maura admitted. "But ex or merely separated, she, ah, she didn't seem too happy with Jason. Caused a ridiculous scene at the reception, accusing him of only caring about women and money."

"Damnit," Jane interrupted Maura. "I should have accepted your invitation. How was I supposed to know rich people had cat fights at their weddings?"

"Mmm, not typically. It was completely uncalled for. But Jason did seem to be a bit of a jerk," Maura added, feeling slightly guilty that, even in death, she couldn't bring herself to like the man. "He hit on me at the rehearsal dinner and I knowhe said something to Arizona. Plus, I noticed Susan, a friend from medical school, seemed to be close to his side for much of the reception."

"Huh. An angry ex-wife and a possible new fling? The plot thickens," Jane mused. "And moves further and further away from your _girlfriends_. Which is nice," she added, "because Frankie almost had a seizure when he realized the two chicks in his squad car were a couple. I think it would break his heart if we told him he had to arrest one of them for murder."

Maura grinned at Jane's quip about Frankie. "I did notice him blushing. But, they are a very complementary couple," she added. "I think they're quite beautiful together."

Jane smirked, picking up the small ceramic tortoise she'd given Maura as a gag gift last Christmas. "Is it hard seeing her all married and happy and stuff?"

"No, no," Maura smiled. "It's nice that she's so obviously happy. She deserves it."

"Hmm," Jane hesitated, still flipping the figurine around in her palm. She didn't notice how Maura flinched each time she tossed the silly gift from hand-to-hand. "You know, I could see how you'd go for her. I mean, besides the girl thing, of course. She seems like your type."

"Does she?" Maura cocked her head to the side as she considered Jane's assessment. "I didn't realize I had a type."

Jane snorted and flicked the tortoise into the air. "Sure ya do. Guy or girl, you mostly stick to the rich, well-dressed, overeducated crowd."

Taking in Jane's appearance, her Celtics shirt twisted around her waist and riding high enough to reveal the worn top edge of her jeans, Maura asked innocently, "If that's the case, Jane, then why on Earth would I spend so much time with you?"

Jane paused, flicking her gaze up just in time to catch Maura's fleeting grin. She laughed and flopped down in the chair next to Maura's desk. "You know, Maur, you hide the smart ass so well. It's impressive."

Maura laughed softly, her smile catching Jane off guard, before she added, "Realistically, though, Arizona and I, we would have never worked out in the long term. We're far too similar. Callie seems to balance her out nicely."

"You believe in all that opposites attract nonsense?" Jane grinned as she passed the tortoise between her hands.

"Yes, Jane. Why do you think we get along so well?" Maura smiled before dropping her head back down to her file, adding something to the memo portion of the autopsy report in her neat print.

Nearly dropping the tortoise, but quickly recovering it and thanking her softball reflexes, Jane swallowed. "What do you mean by that?" She asked, plopping the tortoise (thankfully unharmed) back on Maura's desk.

Sighing softly, Maura signed off on the bottom of her paperwork and closed the file. She moved the tortoise into its proper position on her desk, shifting it so the goofily grinning head would face her. Pulling a chair close to Jane's, she settled down until their knees were practically touching. She was fully aware she was invading the detective's personal space. But maybe it was about time. "I mean, I think you and I could be complementary, too. Together."

"Complimentary?" Jane jerked slightly, scooting her chair back an inch. "Like 'Hey, Maura, I really like your shoes today?'"

_Sometimes the urge to smack you is so strong, Jane Rizzoli._ "No, Jane, not _complimentary_. Complementary, the way Callie and Arizona seem to _complement _one another."

"Oh," Jane drawled slowly. She still wasn't certain she understood what Maura was saying but she definitely recognized the look in Maura's eyes when the ME leaned forward and flicked a tiny glance down at Jane's lips.

"Do you mean…Do you, uh, about us…about _me…_Do you think about us that way sometimes?" Jane finally asked in a rush.

Maura didn't say anything for a few long moments. Jane knew this was her "thinking" face—the face she had most often—, but this time with more brow furrowing and a slight increase of lip pursing. "Well, yes. Do you?"

Rough and tumble Jane Rizzoli was stumped. She couldn't really look at Maura and instead took to playing with a fray on the tiny hole in the knee of her jeans, eyes flicking between the contrast of the smooth knee peeking out from Maura's dress. Maybe the ME was on to something with this complementary business.

"You don't have to answer that, I'm sorry." Maura leaned back, physically withdrawing in the face of so much silence. "Perhaps I've been overly romanticized this weekend. Anyway, so as I was saying earlier about Jason—" Maura began, stopping when she felt Jane's hand on her wrist.

"I have, you know. It's strange because you're a woman. But I've never felt this..._attached_ to another human being before. Not even my family," Jane whispered.

Maura softened instantly, her heart beating wildly as she scooted close to the detective again. Jane chewed her lip nervously as she tipped her head forward, hand squeezing the ME's knee gently as she struggled to keep focus on those hazel eyes. Maura let off a soft giggle before bringing a hand to brush against Jane's cheek.

The detective shuddered at first, but then smiled as she watched Maura inch closer, lips parting ever so slightly. Regardless of this being a woman, Jane knew exactly what was coming next. And the excitement she felt coursing through her was wholly unexpected.

Neither woman heard the elevator doors slip open, or the squeak of the lab's main door, or the telling whistle of a certain young detective as the leaned towards each other slowly.

"Whoa," Barry Frost exclaimed as he bounded into the office. "Um...am... I...interrupting something?"

"Yes," Maura responded honestly, even as Jane shoved backwards and quickly rebuked, "No. No. Nothing."

Catching the distressed look in Maura's eyes, Jane carefully nudged Maura's foot with her own. She mouthed the word 'later' to Maura silently, her small smile pleading for patience, and was rewarded when the doctor nodded her agreement and leaned back in her chair.

"Okay," Frost drawled, rolling his eyes slightly. "I, uh, found some stuff. On our vic, I found some stuff. But I can come back later if…"

"No," Jane and Maura responded at the same time, laughing at their jinx.

"No," Maura repeated. "Go on, Barry. But first, let me say, that outfit is quite…interesting."

Jane laughed at Maura's description of Frosts' clothes, a worn pair of nylon basketball shorts and a simple white t-shirt. But the real achievement of the outfit was his Adidas flip-flops. With socks, no less.

"Maur, I know you can't lie but maybe you could, um, _refrain from mentioning_?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Barry," Maura apologized immediately. "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm simply unaccustomed to seeing you out of your customary shirt and tie."

"I'm not offended, Doc." He had already heard enough that evening from Korsak—a grown man in a Hawaiian shirt—anyway. "On poker night, you've gotta go for comfort clothes. These socks keep my feet warm."

"Yes, but—" Maura began but Jane stopped her before the fashionista could launch into a lecture about how one must always suffer to be beautiful. It was a song and dance Jane had heard from her mother far too often anyway.

"If you two ladies are done discussing the latest fall trends, perhaps you'd like to put down your fancy cups of tea and talk murder."

"Oh, a cup of tea would be wonderful right now," Maura smiled, winking softly at Barry.

"Maura," Jane groaned before kicking over the office's last available chair and ordering. "Frost, talk."

"Ok," Frost agreed. "First, I ran the guy's financials. He's in all kinds of serious shit there. Investigations coming from all over."

"That fits with what Maura overheard," Jane nodded. "The investigations going to turn something up?"

"Don't know yet," Frost shrugged. "The guy's got money in accounts around the world. Gonna take some time to run that down. But, if that many people are looking—"

"There must be something to find," Jane agreed. "What else?"

"Ok. I talked to his kids. Two of them, son and daughter, both guests at the wedding. Son's sixteen, daughter's fourteen. I asked if they had noticed anything unusual about their dad lately. Son said no, nothing. I got the impression they don't see too much of the guy."

"Maura said the guy's a _peach_."

"Oh, yeah, he had some enemies, alright. Lots of them. Seemed like every guest at the wedding was more than happy to tell me—a cop!—a reason they weren't crying over the dead guy. Anyway, the daughter said she noticed something. Claimed a girl, maybe college age, came by her dad's office about a week ago. Mary, that's the daughter, stopped by the office, trying to hit her dad up for some money to go shopping. The secretary told her Whitestone was busy, in a meeting, but Mary could hear yelling. She stuck around a few minutes; long enough to see this girl run out of the office, crying."

"Hmm," Jane considered Frosts' information. Glancing at Maura, she asked, "You said he liked women, right? Think he liked them young?"

"I honestly don't know, Jane. I didn't really know the man. But," she added, "in my opinion, there are any number of older men who would appreciate the company of a college co-ed."

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking too. Did the daughter hear what the fight was about?" Jane asked Frost.

"Not really," he shook his head, "but says she thought she heard something about money."

"Of course she did," Jane sighed, scrubbing a hand over her eyes. "I hate when rich people get killed," she muttered, avoiding Maura's glare. "Ok. Follow up on the girl tomorrow. See if you can get a name from the secretary. And let me know what you get from the financials."

"Will do," Frost confirmed. "But there's one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Ray, the groom? He says Whitestone threw a bachelor party Thursday night. Big affair, large crowd. Ray says he noticed Jason went missing for a while and when he went to find him, he saw him fighting with an older man. A real knockdown deal. Old man clocked the vic, one shot. Ray knew his name, recognized him from a couple of other events with Whitestone. A," Frost looked at his notes to confirm, "a Colonel Robbins, USMC. Address in Beacon Hill."

Jane heard Maura's small gasp and closed her eyes tightly before turning to her friend. "Let me guess. Related to one Arizona Robbins, right?"

"Her father," Maura confirmed softly, her eyes wide with shock as she shook her head. "That's her father. But Jane, he couldn't—The Colonel, he couldn't do this."

Keeping her thoughts closely guarded, Jane rose from her chair. "Let's go talk to your friends, Maura."

* * *

><p>Callie pressed another kiss to the Arizona's lips, pulling back to wipe the rogue sprinkle from the corner of her mouth. She grinned at Arizona's child-like enthusiasm for doughnuts. For everything really. It charmed her and made her fall in love with her a little more each day. Even wet-haired and make-up free, the Latina was smitten.<p>

"How you doing, Arizona? Need any more doughnuts?" Callie asked as she gently rolled on top of her wife, settling between her knees. "That will all go in your mouth instead of all over your face?"

Arizona looked up from the re-run of _Will & Grace_ on the hotel television. "It's been a weird night. I just... I feel so bad for that guy, even if he was a perv. And Becca." Big blue eyes started welling with tears again as she tucked her fingers in the collar of Callie's robe, pulling her close for another kiss.

"Sweetheart," Callie breathed, using a rare pet name. "You did everything you could to save Jason. He'd already lost too much blood and was probably bleeding internally."

"I kind of just want Sofia-snuggles. They cure everything," Arizona sighed.

Callie tipped Arizona's chin up. "We'll call her tomorrow morning, how's that sound? Maybe some Sofia giggles can stand in for snuggles. We'll make Mark do the Elmo voice."

Arizona grinned despite herself, but dropped her head back to the pillow, nodding as she stared up at the ceiling. "I'd love that. I just wish this all was over. They need to know who killed him now. Maura's detective's coming back here for our statement. Our _statement._ God," she shivered.

"Oh, _Maura's_ detective alright. Jane. She's hot," Callie grinned, trying to distract her wife from brooding. "And gay. Very gay."

"I don't know. I think she's just a typical cop. Tough, menacing." Arizona grinned as she swept a hand through her wife's damp waves. "As much as I'd like to believe that this is like television and they will ride off into the sunset together."

Callie smiled down at Arizona. "Um, but did you see the way they were looking at each other when Jane showed up? In her beaten up jeans and t-shirt?"

Arizona giggled as Callie continued her speculation. "Mm, I did see that. You probably were tickled."

"I was. General badasses seem to flock together. I sensed it from her when she walked by me. Plus, she broke my gaydar," Callie explained coolly, pressing a kiss to Arizona's neck, fragrant from their recent shower.

Arizona lazily looped her legs around Callie's waist. "Your gaydar. My wife's got a gaydar now," she teased, feeling her own robe ride up at the motion of her legs. Pulling Callie more fully atop her she sighed, "So much for our weekend away."

"Hey, we still have some time," Callie said, hands instinctively running along the length of Arizona's outer thighs. "And we're kind of naked. And you probably have a sugar high."

"You said you wouldn't judge me about the doughnuts," Arizona whined playfully, cut off by the kiss Callie planted against her lips. A kiss that started very softly but slowly started gaining momentum.

At the feeling of her wife's tongue sneaking into her mouth, Arizona reached up and undid the loosely knotted belt on Callie's robe, fingers dancing upward toward her breasts, palming them and tweaking already hardened nipples. Callie gasped against Arizona's lips and reached between them to open Arizona's robe as well.

"I want fast, h-hard. I don't wanna think," Arizona mumbled distractedly as Callie dug nails into her hip.

"I can do that," Callie promised, pushing Arizona's knees apart even further.

The blonde responded by digging her nails into Callie's lower back, head tipping back when that luxurious mouth started kissing and sucking softly against sensitive skin.

Callie's hand pressed between their bodies, wiggling its way inside Arizona's spread thighs. Without a moment's hesitation she plunged two fingers into her wife's sex, causing Arizona to moan and tug Callie, by the hair, back to her mouth for a kiss.

"God, Calliope," Arizona managed in between kisses. "Harder."

More than happy to oblige, Callie started backing her thrusts with her hip. "Like that?"

"Yes," the blonde hissed.

"Mm, you sound so good," the Latina panted next to Arizona's ear, nipping on the lobe. "Missed this."

"Mm, m-me too," Arizona groaned, back arching when Callie's thumb swiped across her clit. "R-right there, oh— Oh my God."

The sturdy knock at the door was really not what either woman wanted to hear next. "Detective Rizzoli..."

"And Maura!" Came the other voice.

"You are _kidding_ me!" Callie moaned, dropping her head to rest against Arizona's sweaty shoulder. "Now? They're here now?" Callie's fingers continued to move inside her wife, but slowly now, easing Arizona down carefully.

"O-one minute," Arizona called out loudly towards the main door, moaning quietly in pleasure and distress when Callie's fingers finally slipped out from between her legs. Brushing back her sweaty curls, Arizona took a deep breath and kissed her wife. "You go, uh, wash up. I'll get the door."

"Ok," Callie sighed, rolling off her wife and the bed with a loud thump.

Arizona slipped off the bed more quietly, padding out of the suite's bedroom while she retied her robe and adjusted her ponytail. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught her wife's naked backside turning towards the bathroom, her tanned flesh not yet recovered by white terrycloth, and she called, "Calliope?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget where you were."

"Not a chance," Callie laughed, turning the corner just as Arizona wrenched the door open.

"Detective," Arizona smiled, one hand still wrestling with her ponytail. "And Maura. Ah, come on in," she gestured towards the room and stepped aside. Noticing the sugar and sprinkles that still littered the suite's table, leading an obvious trail to the bedroom, Arizona flushed. "Sorry about the mess," she murmured.

"Doughnuts?" Maura guessed. "Still your favorite comfort food."

"Yep," Arizona grinned. "I think there're more, in the bedroom," she pointed, "if you want some."

Suddenly the word 'bedroom' clicked in Jane's mind and, like the good detective she was, she began to piece together the scene before her. Arizona was clad only in the hotel's robe, which, on second glance, was perilously close to coming undone and her hair was mussed in a laughingly obvious manner. Jane watched as Arizona's hands seemed to twitch, making the blonde appear as jumpy as…_Oh, God_. As jumpy as a teenager in heat.

When Callie came out of the bathroom, also wrapped in a robe and unable to stop the smug grin that stretched over her face when she looked at her wife, Jane's gaze shot instantly to the ceiling.

"Um, no, thank you," she finally answered Arizona, her eyes trained three feet above the blonde. "Sorry if we're—ah…interrupting your sleep."

A giggle, perky and delighted, bubbled from Arizona's chest and she reached her hand out to link with Callie, pulling the also-laughing brunette close by her side. "It's no problem, Detective," Arizona assured her, ignoring Callie's roll of the eyes. "Our fault—you did tell us to expect you."

_That's true_, Jane mentally huffed. Finally lowering her eyes, Jane knew she flushed in the face of Arizona and Callie's knowing grins but some things were out of her control.

Turning to Maura for help, Jane found the sandy-blonde smiling at her softly. She could almost hear the doctor admonish her: _Really Jane. Sometimes you are too stubborn to see what's right in front of you._ Maybe so, Jane silently agreed, but now wasn't the time to think about _that._

So, instead, it was Callie, a woman who clearly remembered her own struggles when the possibility of being with, of loving, a woman came roaring into her life; it was Callie who rescued Jane from her own embarrassment. "Why don't you two have a seat? Please. We promise we weren't, um, _sleeping _on the couch."

Arizona and Maura both laughed out loud at that but all three women followed Callie's lead towards the large sitting area. In a move of surprising alliance and kinship, Callie sat next to Jane on the sofa, enjoying the detective's wary glance as she settled beside the Latina. Arizona perched on the arm of the loveseat, still close to Callie, and reached over to grab her hand. She was prepared to make a smart-alecky comment, something about how Jane should sit by Maura, when Maura stopped her with a gentle hand against her knee.

"Arizona," she said softly, regret seeping into her tone as she sat near her old friend, "we're here about your father."


	4. Chapter 4

**Something Old, Something New (Chapter 4 of ?)**

**Authors: Roughian and ForeverLeyton**

**Rating: PG-13, again. Better luck next time.**

**Fandom: Crossover: Rizzoli and Isles/Callie and Arizona**

**Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected: Callie meets Arizona's favorite ex; Maura's got an itch Jane wants to scratch. Oh, and there's a murder, too.**

**Chapter 4 Summary: **The investigation gets personal, the Colonel gets interviewed and the ex-wife cries alibi. But things really get heated when Maura and Jane argue. Case heavy this round but our couples' will take some time to play in the next chapter.

* * *

><p>"About my father?" Arizona swallowed and slid blindly into the armchair opposite the couch, grin fading and giggles drying up. "What about my father?"<p>

Jane, edging a little further away from the bathrobe-clad Callie, glanced toward Maura and then back to Arizona. "He and Jason Whitestone had a relationship. One that apparently turned sour. Were you aware of this?"

"Years ago, after Tim died—my brother—dad sort of took Jason under his wing. Used to meet for golf and drinks to talk about finances," Arizona swallowed hard, realizing the rest of her statement's implication. "But recently, I assume they had a falling out of sorts. My dad won't talk about it...But, wait, Detective Rizzoli...you don't think my father—he was at a dinner, in Annapolis. My father may be retired, Detective Rizzoli, but you don't quit the Marines. He and my mother are in Annapolis, Maryland. A ceremony at the United States Naval Academy honoring sailors returning home from a tour in the Persian Gulf. You can…follow up."

Callie sighed, grimacing at the words she was about to utter. "Arizona, that was Friday night. "

"No," Arizona said as she stood up, pacing behind the chair. "He didn't do this. I don't care what you say, " she muttered, pointing at Jane. "There's no way."

"Hey, hey," Jane said, holding up her hands. "We don't know who did this, but your father has a serious connection with this man. And Ray Miller, your friend's new husband, said he saw your dad deck Jason at his bachelor party on Thursday night."

"You're kidding?" Arizona said, voice choking in a sob. "My father? My father, the decorated Marine, punching men in bars? I think you're mistaken, Detective."

Maura looked away, arms crossed tightly over her dress. Jane could tell she wanted nothing more than to speak up on Colonel Robbins' behalf.

"Look, Maura says your dad's a good guy. And I trust Maura. I still have to follow certain protocol," Jane said gently, watching the obviously distraught blonde pace in her bathrobe.

"Why don't you call your dad, Arizona? Maybe he can sort this out," Callie offered, knowing this had to be killing Arizona inside.

Arizona took a deep breath, blew it out and glanced toward the detective. "I'll call him now. The uh, my phone, is in the bedroom. I'll just…" She trailed off and headed in the direction of the bedroom but Jane stopped her with a quiet 'Arizona.'

"It would be best…it would be helpful if you made the call from here," Jane said, indicating the general area around her.

"I'm not going to—" But Arizona took another deep breath before she responded to Jane's veiled assumption that she would somehow tip her father off as to the direction of the investigation. "Fine," she muttered and stalked off.

"Um, Detective," Callie ventured, "can I—"

"Go," Jane replied.

When Callie stood and followed her wife, Maura moved to sit on the couch next to the detective. "Jane, listen to me."

"I know what you are going to say Maura. I have to follow this through."

"I understand," Maura agreed, "but listen to me first."

"Alright," Jane sighed, turning to face Maura more fully. "But talk fast."

"The Colonel…Arizona's father he's…tough, I guess."

"He's a Marine Colonel, Maur. I got tough."

"Right. But he's…honorable. He wouldn't kill a man unless it was absolutely necessary."

"That's not a very convincing defense. Where's the science, the proof, _Dr. Isles_?"

"The proof is the body, Jane. What was done to that man, it wasn't _necessary_. It was…emotional or frantic or…I don't know," she decided, shaking her head sadly. "I can't guess the emotions that may have been involved. I can only say that Colonel Robbins can kill with a single blow. He wouldn't have done this."

"She's right," Arizona announced, stepping back into the living room. Though she was still shaken, it was obvious a moment with Callie had helped the blonde gather her composure. "Even if you believe my father capable of murder, a trained Marine wouldn't kill a man the way Jason was killed. Anyway, I have my phone."

Jane glanced at Arizona and then looked back at the earnest expression on Maura's face. It was obvious the ME was looking for something, anything that would help to exculpate her friend's father.

Equally obvious, however, was the fact that Jane was withholding judgment. Nodding to Arizona, Jane only said, "Let's make the call.

Arizona nodded back in agreement, tightening the belt on her robe as she took a seat on the opposite sofa. An icy feeling of fear pumped through her veins, Not even the warm hand of Calliope on her back nor the empathetic wide-eyes of both Maura and her detective could help her right now.

Her fingers dialed methodically and she pressed the button on the side of the phone to turn on the speaker. For a few stagnant moments, the only sound was the ringing, and Arizona knew her dad would be asleep by now. She glanced woefully at Jane whose brows knitted together before the sound of, "Hello, Arizona?"

"Dad," Arizona breathed, the emotion evident in her voice. "Dad, I need to talk. I'm sorry if you're asleep."

"Arizona, what's the matter?" Daniel persisted. "Is everything okay? Is it Callie? Sofia? Arizona-"

"No, Daddy," Arizona said softly. "Sofia's okay. Mark called a few hours ago at bedtime. And Callie's right here beside me. It's—Dad, it's about Jason Whitestone."

"Did he say or do something dishonorable toward you or your wife, Arizona?" The Colonel stiffened, his sleepy tone still rift with a sternness that was palpable even through the phone. "Would you like me to speak to him?"

"No, Dad," Arizona sighed, trying to fight back tears. "I'm sitting here with a detective..." she paused. "He's been murdered. Y-Your name came up."

"What?" Colonel Robbins said loudly enough that a faint, "Daniel what's wrong?" could be heard in the background of the call. "Stay put Arizona, I'll be on the next red eye."

"Colonel, sir," Jane spoke up, watching Maura's gaze shift to the floor. "This is Detective Rizzoli with the Boston Police Department. I apologize for waking you in the middle of the night like this. We're at the Boston Police Department on 1628 McKendell Ave. I'll plan on meeting you there in—"

"As soon as possible Detective," Daniel replied. "I realize you're doing your job, Detective, but, please go easy on Arizona and Callie. They're not involved with that louse of a man."

"Dad, it's—"

"Will do, Colonel. If you'd, if uh, you'd like to get a lawyer in the meantime or have counsel present at the interview, you can call, I—"

"No, I won't be needing a lawyer. Like I said Detective, I will see you in a few hours. And Arizona, remember..."

"I know, Dad. I'm a good man in a storm. So are you."

The call ended and Arizona set her Blackberry down on the coffee table. She leaned back in her seat as Jane stood up.

"Well, Maura I think we should go. Arizona, if you talk to your father again you should really try to persuade him to get a lawyer."

"My father is a stubborn man, Detective," Arizona said with a rueful laugh.

At that, Maura and Callie's gazes went from the floor to each other where both smirked and looked away just as quickly. Maura murmured a quiet goodbye to Callie and Arizona, squeezing Arizona's shoulder as she turned to follow Jane out the door.

* * *

><p>The shrill ring of a doorbell sent the menagerie of rescue animals that resided in Vincent Korsak's home into immediate, and loud, turmoil. Ordering two dogs away from the door (with little affect), he peered through his peephole and was surprised to see Jane on the other side of his door.<p>

Opening the door, Korsak asked, "Jane? What are doing here? Before 8 in the—Wally! Wally Green Monster, get back here now," Vince ordered.

"Ooohh, the full name," Jane drawled, glancing down at the small mutt nipping around her heels in frenzied circles. "Someone's in trouble."

"Are ya gonna stand there and look at him or are ya gonna grab him for me?" Vince huffed, trying to snag the dog while keeping another two dogs and one bored cat trapped behind his door.

"I'm going to stand here," Jane shrugged, laughing at Vince before finally taking pity on him and shooing the dog back into the apartment. "But for God's sake, come out here. I can't hear myself think in there."

"Fine," Vince relented, stepping into the hall and slamming the door behind him, the din of barks and yelps quieting mercifully. "Why are you here?"

"To bring you coffee," Jane smiled, sticking out her hand with a cup of black coffee from the stand on the corner.

"Uh huh. Why?"

"I need you with me today."

"Today?" Vince whined. "It's Sunday. The Pats play the Ravens today."

"Geez, what are you twelve? Stop whining."

"You have a partner, remember? You left me for him."

"Oh my God, you sound like my ex-wife." Instantly realizing her choice of words, Jane stuttered, "Because you sound like a woman. Not because, uh, I'd have a _wife_ or—"

Oblivious, Korsak yawned. "Calling me a woman's not a good way to get a favor."

"Dead guy. That a good enough reason?"

"Shit," Vince scratched his jaw and rolled his eyes but Jane could already see his consent. "Where's Frost?"

"Buried in financials," Jane answered. "And he called this morning, said he saw something weird on the vic's comp. Some kind of tech-geek mumbo jumbo."

"Huh," Vince grunted.

"Anyway, he's booked. I need to question the ex-wife and I want you with me."

"You asking me 'cause I got ex-wives? What about the doc?"

"Maura's too close to this. She's…Look, I've got a suspect. The more I look, the better he looks. Maura doesn't want it to be him. So."

"So you're taking me with you to make sure you aren't just looking to look? Barking up a bullshit tree so you don't have to arrest the doc's friend?"

"Yeah," Jane admitted. "In a nutshell. If I promise to get you back before the game, will you help me?"

Vince sighed, defeated. "Fine. It'll be nice to talk to an ex-wife who's not after my money anyway." He turned and reached into the apartment for his badge and keys.

"Shit, Korsak, you got money? Wanna make me ex number four?"

Korsak rolled his eyes, zipping his black fleece jacket over his Wes Welker jersey, before wrangling the dogs back into the house and closing the door behind him. "You're too old for me anyhow."

Jane snorted, feigning indignation, "Ouch, Korsak. I'm so hurt."

The pair ambled into the cruiser, Korsak immediately fiddling with the crackling radio to find pre-game coverage for the game. He listened intently as Gil Santos explained the uncharacteristic offensive rut the Patriots were in this season. Korsak grumbled his agreement when Gino Cappeletti observed Brady seemed to be dancing and ducking only to get sacked anyway.

"Listen up," Jane said with a roll of her eyes and a flip of her turn signal. "This Carolyn Flynn is Whitestone's ex-wife. Last seen losing her mind on him at the reception. Maura explained it as," Jane paused, cleared her throat and adopted her best Maura impersonation, complete with perfect pronunciation as well as enunciation, "'one of the most uncouth displays' she's seen in a while. "

Korsak smirked. "You think she's our suspect, _Doc_?"

"Probably not. This dude's got a track record a mile long with pissing people off," Jane continued. "I think his ex is just another one on the list."

Understanding without affirming, Korsak watched Jane steer the car into Brighton Cliffs, one of the more prestigious areas in the Boston area. The planned community was meticulous: manicured lawns, perfect hedges, children playing wholesome games in the front yard. Seemed innocuous enough, but both officers knew how deceiving first impressions could be.

Pulling up in the governor's driveway at 103 Peachtree Street, Jane killed the engine. She and Korsak ambled to the front door, taking note of the way the neighbor next door gawked his head around his meticulous begonia bush, masking his rubber necking with botanical prowess.

"Remind me why we're at her house and not at the station?" Korsak groaned, studying the nosy neighbor's polo, white shorts, and Sperry's, all pristine, despite the alleged gardening he was doing. "At least downtown I could catch Sports Center over in Robbery."

"She said she and her lawyer would be here, nowhere else. And that this was her right as a citizen voluntarily offering assistance to the local police or some other high-falutin' bullshit."

"Shit. I hate when people know their rights."

Jane snorted her agreement as she banged on the heavy wooden door. Shaking her knuckles, Jane rolled her eyes. "Ever notice how rich people even have annoying doors?"

The door in question swung open just as Jane finished her comment. The man who stepped out was mid-fifties and impeccably dressed. Suit and tie before 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning. _Show off_, Jane thought.

"I assure you, Detective Rizzoli, the door didn't mean to offend."

Glancing at Korsak, Jane allowed her eyes to widen comically. "Let me guess. Butler?"

"Lawyer. Jake Pulaski."

"A lawyer who answers doors. You charge extra for that?"

Stepping back to let the officers enter the house, Jake let the comment pass. "My client is prepared to answer your questions, Detective. I assure you, she did not kill Mr. Whitestone."

"Of course not," Jane agreed, stepping into the room where Carolyn waited.

If Jane didn't want to vomit by the lavish exterior decorations, she did now. The expansive rooms, big enough to fit two of her apartment, housed so much crap. Romanesque busts, vases on pedestals resting on ornately carved mantel frames, a baby grand piano, and finally the sitting room complete with a large dead zebra, stuffed and lifelike in the corner.

"Why do I get the feeling this is gonna be a wild ride?" Korsak whispered as Jane resisted the urge to jab him in the ribs with her elbow.

Searching out Carolyn, Jane was surprised to find a pretty blonde, eyes rimmed red with obvious tears, drowning her sorrows in a morning Bloody Mary. If the pale color of the drink was any indication, this one was light on the Mary.

"Mrs. Whitestone—"

"Please. I didn't use that shit's name when I was married to the man. It's Miss. Flynn. But call my Carolyn."

"Ah. Ok. Carolyn. I'm Detective Rizzoli and this is my part—um, this Sergeant Korsak. I'd say I'm sorry for your loss but…"

Carolyn laughed. "But I just called him a shit so you think your apology would be wasted? Look, I wanted Jason dead but I didn't want him dead-dead, you know?"

"Um. No, I'm sorry, ma'am. Can you explain that?"

"I hated his guts. Wanted him to suffer. Hoped he'd die and rot in hell one day—"

"Carolyn," Jake interrupted, trying to stop his client's tirade.

"Oh, hush, Jake. You won't let me say anything I shouldn't but these two, they know about the scene I made at that wedding. I'm not telling them anything they don't know. Except this," she added, raising her glass towards Jake in a smug toast, "as long as Jay lives, I get ten grand a month in permanent alimony. Plus child support. He dies, I get nothing and my kids get trust funds. So I didn't want him dead. Yet."

"Money isn't the only reason people kill, ma'am," Korsak said.

"Only reason I would," Carolyn returned. She held up a hand when Jake started to interrupt again. "Isn't this the part where you ask me where I was when Jay was killed? You know, where you ask for my alibi?"

"Do you have one?" Jane asked.

"I do. Airtight. Sexy, too. When someone was sticking it to Jay, Matthew Nevins was sticking it to me."

Both Jake and Korsak were immediately overwhelmed by a coughing fit but Jane kept her expression carefully neutral. "Matthew Nevins is your alibi?" She asked, glancing at her notes though that was only for show. "That's too bad. I've got a witness who saw Mr. Nevins arguing with our victim at the wedding. My wit says he was pretty pissed with your ex."

It was Jane's turn to halt the lawyer's automatic rebuttal. "There's also this: my Medical Examiner is researching the possibility that there was more than one killer. Say…two, perhaps? Now, you want to rethink that airtight alibi?"

Carolyn Flynn's face stretched into a smile as she crossed her arms over her Armani tracksuit. "He and Jay fought? That would explain why Matty was so feisty."

"Carolyn," Jake warned again. "That's unnecessary infor—"

"Oh, quiet, Jake," Carolyn huffed. "Leave me be. There aren't too many things I can boast about these days." She looked thoughtful for a moment before she realized that the officers were all still standing. "Please, please. Sit down."

Jane took a seat, watching Jake pull Carolyn aside to talk quietly. Why this interview had to be done in a million dollar parlor was beyond both police officers, but at least they were getting somewhere with this case.

"As I was saying, Carolyn, your alibi needs to be checked out."

Looking uneasy but quietly amused as she sipped again from her morning cocktail, the woman set her glass down on the coffee table (coaster to support it, of course) and looked over at Jane. "There's…there's a third person you could q-question."

"Oh, and who is this?" Korsak persisted.

"Anthony Romanoff," Carolyn swallowed. "He was with us."

"With you? Ah, with you in what sense, ma'am?" Jane asked, nervously holding her pencil against the paper in anticipation.

"With us, um… helping," Carolyn muttered quietly in reply.

Korsak coughed again. "Well, that's…"

"Her business, Sergeant. How Ms. Flynn spends her time recreationally is not something for you to judge," Jake defended.

"Pipe down, please," Jane gruffed. "We're trying to get a statement, not preach about morality."

"At any rate, Detective. The three of us enjoyed our evening in the hotel's penthouse suite. There are records of check-in and check-outs, as well as the transaction on my credit card statement for the room," Carolyn leaned back and pressed the intercom mounted to the wall. "Luis, I need another bloody mary. Easy on the tomato juice."

Jane resisted the urge to chuck her notepad at the woman, but nodded instead. "We'll see if we can search through the security tapes. We'll let you know if we need to speak again."

"It will all check out. Like I said, Detective," Carolyn added. "I wanted my husband dead—but I didn't want him dead."

* * *

><p>Jane slammed her cell phone down on the desk and dropped her head into her hands. Glancing over the top of his computer, Frost winced when he heard the detective start to curse. He was about to interrupt Jane's under-the-breath tirade when he saw Maura enter the office carrying two cups of coffee. <em>Just what the doctor ordered<em>, Frost thought with smirk and he turned his attention back to his computer screen.

"I heard you were back at the station, Jane," Maura began, approaching the desk quickly when she noticed Jane's level of distress. "I was wondering whether—"

"Whether I've found someone else to arrest so I don't have to throw your favorite army daddy in jail for murder?"

Instantly bristling, Maura affected her very best teacher-to-student voice and she responded, "The Colonel is a retired officer of the United States Marine Corps. He would certainly not appreciate being referred to as an 'army daddy.'"

Jane lifted her head from her hands, flicking her hair back with an annoyed push through tangled curls, and stared at Maura balefully. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," Maura responded, her brow wrinkling in confusion. When Jane rolled her eyes and dropped her head back down, this time resting it flat on the scarred wooden surface, Maura softened and moved forward to place Jane's coffee, sweet and light like the detective preferred, next to her head. Trying to begin this conversation anew, Maura murmured, "I was _wondering,_ Jane, whether you slept at all last night? I'm guessing from your cranky attitude this afternoon you require sleep more than the caffeine I brought."

"Cranky," Jane scoffed and they all ignored Frost's agreeable laugh from behind his computer screen. "I'm not cranky, Maura. I'm pissed the hell off."

"Yes. I see that. Why?"

"Why? Why? Because I've got about a hundred suspects and no suspect at all."

"That doesn't make sense Jane."

"Tell me about it," Jane agreed, finally leaning back to sit straight in her chair. "I've got people with motive all over the damn place but I can't place one of them at the scene when our guy was killed."

"Daniel Robbins was in Maryland," Maura reminded Jane helpfully. "You can't place him at the scene."

"He _says _he was in Maryland. I don't have anyone who can vouch for him, during the time our victim was killed, except his wife. Not exactly a perfect alibi."

"Arizona called a hotel in Annapolis, Jane. You checked that."

"Yeah, sure. All that tells me is that the Colonel was in Maryland at two in the morning. Our victim died at 6:20 p.m. That's almost eight hours. Do you know how often Logan sends flights to BWI? I'm trying, Maur, I'm really trying to find something that helps out your friends but I've got this feeling in my gut. I _know _this was about more than money. You don't…you don't kill a guy, stab him with a knife like that, over money. This feels personal. We've got Colonel Robbins, a long-time friend of the victim, walking into a bar and punching our guy, full fist. Damnit, Maura, the Colonel _is _personal. And you heard him, the way he agreed to come back to Boston right away? He didn't even sound surprised when Arizona told him his name had come up. There's something there."

Maura studied the slightly irregular lid to her plastic coffee cup, biting the inside of her cheek. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, Jane had a point. A good point. The Colonel might have personal motives but Maura quickly shook the thought from her head. Taking a tentative sip, the ME swallowed. "Perhaps his statement will shine some light onto this case."

"I need a whole freaking light house with a truck parked at the top flashing its high beams while waving a candelabra, really," Jane snapped.

Maura's brows furrowed, unable to picture such a description. "I don't see how that metap—"

"Whoa," Frost breathed as he scrolled through the list on his computer screen. "Dude has a ton of offshore accounts. Wow. Damn, they're all so erratic. I've got withdrawals leaking all over, funneling into another shit-ton of accounts. Except the deposits are all going to accounts linked to a Tim Robbins. Far as I can tell, this guy wanted his money hidden from someone. Probably lots of someones." Frost squinted, "Shit, that's a lot of money."

"Tim Robbins?" Maura asked with a deep furrow of her brow. "That's odd."

"Why?" Jane replied, leaning back in her chair as she rubbed her eyes. "It's just a pseudonym. Fake name, offshore accounts. Pretty basic white-collar crap. Don't tell me you think it's some kind of cryptic code message—"

"Well, yes, of course. I realize it's common for criminals to assume the identity of a deceased individual. But that's Arizona's late brother's name. Timothy Robbins."

Jane blinked, feeling that twist in her gut that usually accompanied a feeling of having to let Maura down. The ME noticed the grimace that flitted across Jane's face as she placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it through the fabric of her v-neck. "Maura, this could mean… The Colonel… again…"

"Jane, I don't think—"

"You don't _want _to think, Maur."

"Oh, something else," Frost announced, watching Maura and Jane continue their conversation in glances and gestures. "I have an infiltrating IP address. Search dates back, starts about a month before the murder. Last search, couple days before Jason gets killed. Apparently I'm not the only one trying to find out where Jason Whitestone hides his money. I'm tracking the address back to a Grace Jackson."

"Oh, great, add her to the list of suspects," Jane grimaced as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I have Colonel Robbins coming in in a half hour, but get her address so we can find her after. What a Sunday Funday."

"Yeah, added to the fact that Suggs just intercepted Brady for a touchdown," Korsak piped up over his screen.

"That would be because of their inferior offensive line versus Baltimore's superior ability to penetrate the pocket," Maura said coolly as she sipped from her drink.

"Really, Maura? Really?" Jane croaked. "Since when do you like football?"

"Understanding football is not the same thing as enjoying football. I've sat through enough Patriots games at your apartment to realize that the ability to protect the quarterback, particularly on his blind side, is a strong indicator of overall success. Besides," she grinned with a shrug, "the protective gear football players are required to wear over their gluteal muscles accentuates the beauty of the male form wonderfully."

Rubbing her temples at the vast turns her friends could take during a murder investigation, Jane moaned, "Maur, please, never say 'gluteal muscles' again. Just say you like the football players' asses in their pants." Lowering her voice to a furious whisper, one she knew Frost and Korsak were too distracted to overhear, Jane added, "Anyway, I thought you were all about the beauty of the _female _form."

Maura, unburdened by the detective's embarrassed modesty, glanced up and down Jane's crossed legs, hidden seductively behind basic black pants, and easily replied, "Oh. I am. I appreciate beauty in _all _its forms."

Jane snorted. "Right." Leaning back to throw her pen at Frost, she asked, "You find anything on Grace Jackson?"

"Address in South Boston," he responded. "Rough neighborhood but this girl's got some serious comp skills. I would never have traced the IP except she didn't block it the last time she ran his financials. Sloppy," he replied.

"You sound disappointed," Jane mused.

"Well, yeah. Stupid to get sloppy."

"Stupid is how we catch 'em, Frost."

"Yeah. Ok. Anyway, I've got her address. We can go see her after your meet with Colonel Robbins."

"Good. What about you," she asked, starting to throw another pen in Korsak's direction but Maura stopped her with an insistent grip wrapped around her wrist. Jane got caught in Maura's teasing smile and had to shake her head to clear the film that suddenly coated her brain. Pointing at Korsak instead, she asked, "You gonna do anymore cop work today or what?"

"Said I could watch the game," Korsak muttered but he fumbled through papers on his desk and pulled out a crumpled note. "Got in touch with Whitestone's secretary. She confirmed what the daughter told Frosty about the screaming match in Whitestone's office. Said the girl signed in as 'Jackie Graceson.' Secretary doesn't remember seeing her before that day. I'm running the name but so far, nada."

"Good, keep at it. And tell me if the boys score." Turning back to Maura Jane shrugged, "We're tracking them, Maura. Any leads that move away from Arizona's father. We're tracking them. But, I've got to track the Robbins lead too. If Whitestone was using the Colonel's dead son's name to—"

"I understand," Maura nodded and placed a comforting hand over Jane's on top the desk. "I'll leave you to work." Moving back to step out of the office, Maura paused. "It's odd, though, don't you think?"

"What's odd?"

"That there's a Grace Jackson searching our victim's financial records around the same time he is overheard fighting with a Jackie Graceson. Strange coincidence about the names, don't you think?"

In unison, all three police officers stood up from behind their desks. The grin they shared was identical; and predatory. Striding up to the doctor, Jane had to physically prevent her hands from wrapping around Maura's cheeks. "Maura Isles," she announced, "I could _kiss _you."

Uncertain why the officers were so excited, but enjoying the breath of enthusiasm she sensed in Jane, Maura murmured back, "Yes. You certainly could."

* * *

><p>Maura stood next to Jane as the pair waited at the main doors for Colonel Robbins to arrive. Maura had her eyes closed and was evenly exhaling and inhaling as Jane chewed her thumbnail. The detective really wanted this to go over well. Jane Rizzoli was rarely wrong about her hunches, though. Maura didn't call her gumshoe for nothing.<p>

What surprised both ME and detective alike was the presence of Callie and Arizona knocking on the main doors instead of the Colonel, jeans, t-shirts, and zip-ups adorning their frames; a change from their fancy attire from the night before.

Jane let them in, watching as an exhausted Arizona blew out a breath. "We wanted to be here when you question him. Just… I can't," she said, exasperation tainting her tone as she blinked rapidly.

"Arizona, it's okay," Callie soothed as she gently guided the blonde into her arms for a hug.

While Jane waited for the couple to gather their composure, she glanced over at Maura who was staring at her shoes, the implication of all they had learned this morning clearly weighing on the ME. It killed Jane to have to do this to her, again: to make her question herself, her friends. Her history.

"We're expecting your dad in a few minutes, Arizona. Do you guys want Maura to take you into the back and get you some coffee or tea or something?" Jane offered.

"No. He called, when he landed. I-I want to see him, if that's alright," Arizona asked, gently removing herself from Callie's embrace.

"That's perfectly alright," Maura answered, heading Jane off. "I'd like to see him myself. I wish it were under better circumstances, but—"

A gentle rap on the door cut Maura off. Arizona rushed to open it, pulling her father into a tight hug before Jane had a chance to introduce herself.

The Colonel dropped his briefcase onto the floor to properly hug his daughter as he whispered. "It'll be okay, Arizona, I promise."

As the blonde pulled away, the Colonel reached out his hand for Jane. "Detective Rizzoli, I presume. Colonel Robbins."

Jane shook Daniel's outstretched hand. "Pleasure, sir. Sorry to have to drag you away from your weekend, but this are important."

"I understand the legal proceedings, Detective. Thank you." Turning to Maura, he allowed himself his first smile since he had arrived. "Doctor Maura Isles. Look at you. I want to say you're all grown up, but then you always were."

"Colonel Robbins," Maura replied, her smile warm and sincere. She automatically stuck her palm out for a shake but she was secretly thrilled when Daniel used her outstretched hand to pull her into his embrace. She had forgotten that the stoic and strong Marine Colonel was a hugger. "I—It's so good to see you, sir," she mumbled against his neck, breathing in the familiar blend of Old Spice and Cuban cigars. "Even…well, even," she concluded, drawing back.

"Yes, even," Daniel agreed. "I've missed you, Doctor Isles. Barbara will want you to stop by for dinner, once we clear up this God-awful mess. Also, it was Colonel when you were five years old, Maura. Let's keep that way, despite the circumstances."

"Yes, sir," Maura nodded. "I, um, I'm so sorry about this, sir, but it's best if we move…move somewhere private."

"This way," Jane indicated but she paused when the Colonel held up a hand.

"One moment, Detective, please." Turning to Callie, Daniel pulled his daughter-in-law into his embrace. "Callie," he murmured, his voice breaking slightly over the name. Whispering in her ear he added, "She's going to need you, Callie. She'll need you to get through the rest of this."

Understanding, Callie nodded and squeezed the Colonel harder. "Yes, sir," she agreed simply.

Stepping back, Daniel nodded once before pulling his daughter close to Callie's side and frowning at them both. "Now. I spoke to that…that man who's babysitting my granddaughter."

"His name's Mark, Dad," Arizona sighed. "And he's her father. Not the babysitter."

"Whatever," the Colonel waved that off and Callie couldn't help but laugh. "Regardless, I spoke to him two days ago. It seems he managed to throw away her pink chupo." Arizona giggled at her father's use of Spanish, and his automatic assumption that it was Mark, and not Sofia, who had thrown the pacifier down the garbage chute. "As I recall, the pink chupo is something of a favorite of our girl's. So, I picked this up in Maryland." Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a bright pink pacifier, a perfect replica of the one Sofia had lost. Shoving the item unceremoniously into Callie's hands, and ignoring the way his daughter sighed at the gesture, the Colonel promptly about-faced and gestured to Jane. "Take me to your interrogation room, Detective, so I can tell you why I punched that son-of-a-bitch in his face."

* * *

><p>All five adults settled around the interrogation table. The crowded room made Jane itchy but she decided it would be best to keep them together. There was a lot she could learn by reading their reactions to her questions and to the Colonel's answers. This way, they didn't have time to circle the wagons. Besides, it was what Maura wanted. <em>Not that that mattered, of course.<em>

After reading the Colonel the Miranda Warning, Jane asked, "Colonel Robbins, you are waiving your right to an attorney, is that correct?"

"It is."

Unable to stop herself, Jane asked, "Are you sure?"

The Colonel smiled, appreciating the detective's obvious attempts to offer protection. "I am. This is your show, Detective. Why don't you ask me what you want to know."

"Ok." Trying to lighten the mood a bit and relax her suspect, Jane began, "Colonel Robbins, do you own a cape?"

Daniel glanced at his daughter and daughter-in-law, perplexed when they both laughed. This certainly wasn't how he expected the detective to begin. "Ah, a cape?"

"Yes, sir. Black, satin edging?"

"Um. No. I don't."

"Interesting," Jane noted, smiling briefly at Maura. "Now, sir, for the record, what is your relationship with Jason Whitestone?"

"He was my financial advisor. In the past."

"Ok," Jane nodded. "If that's the route you want to take, let's talk finances first. My partner tells me that over the years you've invested more than $500,000 dollars in projects recommended by Mr. Whitestone. Half a million dollars is an awful lot of money for a military man."

The Colonel barked a laugh and Jane's eyes widened when Maura joined him. "Oh Jane," Maura laughed. "You said yourself this was personal. Colonel Robbins did not kill over money. You don't understand."

"Why don't you explain it, then," Jane demanded.

"Colonel Robbins and his wife are friends of my parents," Maura began, as though that should explain things. When Jane continued to frown at her Maura continued, "He is military, yes, but he's also a member of one of Boston's oldest families. The Robbins can trace their roots back to the Mayflower."

"Back to General Washington's Army, too," the Colonel boasted, his eyes almost winking at Jane. "We may be military, ma'am, but I come from a long line of generals, admirals and officers. Several of whom left the services to serve in the halls of Congress. I can assure you, I did not give Whitestone more than I could afford."

"Still," Jane insisted, "you're talking about old money. It takes _new _money to make old money last and the market—"

"You still don't understand, Detective." This time it was Callie who interrupted Jane.

"Look, I get it. You're both surgeons. You've got money. That doesn't mean you have enough to bail out daddy when he makes a bad investment."

"Maybe not," Callie agreed. "But my father is Carlos Torres."

"So?"

"Carlos Torres," Callie repeated, "CEO and majority owner of Torres Holdings and Affiliates. He—"

"Wait," Jane held up a hand. "Are you telling me that your father is the guy who owns the Miami Dolphins? The one who stands on the sidelines and sneaks cigars?"

Callie colored slightly but she nodded. "Yes."

"Oh my God," Jane muttered, impressed despite herself. "You own the freaking Dolphins."

"Actually, my father owns—"

"Yeah, yeah," Jane shook that off, trying to overcome her desperate desire to ask what Callie thought about Miami's recent trade for Reggie Bush. "Fine. You didn't kill him for money," she shrugged at Daniel. "But I'm going to ask you again, what is your relationship with Jason Whitestone? And we both know it's more than financial advisor."

"I have no current relationship with that as—that man," the Colonel corrected himself, wincing guiltily in Maura's direction. "But," he added looking Jane in the eye, "I did have a relationship with him at one time. He and my son were school friends," Daniel began. "We are a military family, Detective, and the Corps makes it difficult for children to maintain long-term friendships. When we left Boston, again, for a tour in Germany, Jason made an effort to keep up his friendship with Tim. Wrote letters. Honest to God, on paper letters. I respected his effort there. It made me…like him, I guess, even though my wife and my daughter were unimpressed."

"When my son was…killed," both the Colonel and Arizona shuddered slightly over the word, "Jason called me up. He was…devastated. Devastated," the Colonel repeated before his face hardened. "Or, at least, that's what he said. He…He invited me for drinks and we talked about Tim. Then one night led to two and three and so on. He wanted to know everything. It was like he wanted to learn every missing detail of his dead friend's life and, God help me, our talks kept my son alive."

"Dad," Arizona interrupted softly. "You never said anything. Mom and I, we would have talked…we would have—"

"You were grieving, too, Zona and you needed to live your life. To move on. And your mother, she was inconsolable. My boy was proud to be a Marine but—but he got that from me. I…I didn't want Barbara to blame me, so I couldn't talk to her."

"Dad," Arizona moaned again. _How had they—all of them—handled things so poorly?_

But the Colonel held up a hand to silence her before she could say anything more. "Regardless," he said to Jane, "Jason Whitestone kept my boy alive for me. I showed him military records, told him stories, jokes. Gave him money to invest when the market was hurting his portfolio. Until I found out why he wanted to know so much."

Keeping one eye trained on Daniel, and another on Arizona, Jane nodded slowly. "He needed information because he intended to assume your son's identity and use it to funnel illegal funds into accounts that bankruptcy and the SEC couldn't touch."

As Jane's words settled over the small group, only Arizona's gasp was audible. The blonde crumbled into her wife's arms, quietly mumbling 'That bastard," before her words disappeared into Callie's neck.

With only a quick glance at his daughter, Daniel returned to Jane's unflinching gaze. "You don't pull punches, Detective. I appreciate that. And let me do the same. When I found out Jason was using my son's name to steal from others, to steal from the very government my son died defending, I wanted to kill him."

"Oh, God," Arizona moaned. "Dad, stop. You can't—don't say anything more."

Callie placed a careful hand against the Colonel's. "Daniel," Callie whispered, using his name for the first time. "Let me call the attorney. Let me—"

"No, Callie, that's not necessary. I wanted to kill him," Daniel repeated, "but he wasn't worth the trouble. So I decked him instead. Then I called up an old friend, Agent Simmons with the FBI and I found a way to hurt Jason where I knew he'd feel it. You and I, Detective, we're trained to look for a person's weakness. Money was Jason's. Agent Simmons made a few well-placed phone calls and the investigations started pouring in. The feds froze all accounts using Tim's name or his social security number. Whitestone would never touch that money again."

Jane jotted these notes down quickly, nodding as the tightness in her gut from earlier was beginning to dissipate. "If I call Agent Simmons, he'll confirm this?"

"Of course," Daniel nodded.

"Good. Can you think of anyone else specifically who would want him dead? He was stabbed over twenty times. There could have been more than—"

Arizona piped up, her voice small but not defeated. "Maura mentioned something about that when she called. Said with so many wounds, there might be two killers. Maybe more. So it couldn't be my dad…"

"I simply noted that the amount of wounds was suspect. As though more than one killer had taken turns stabbing him. Obviously, that's merely a guess and not—"

"Took turns?" Daniel asked. "You mean like the book, ah, _Murder on the Orient Express._"

"Yes, perhaps," Maura agreed, smiling at the Colonel's association. "But as I was saying, there's no way to tell. Certainly one killer, especially one overwhelmed by emotion or-or determination, would be able to inflict those wounds. I simply…Arizona was upset when we spoke," she finished lamely, well-aware Jane was staring at her.

Jane, dumbfounded at Maura's newfound guesswork, blinked towards the ME and then back to her notes, squaring her jaw. "I uh, well, this isn't a storybook, as much as I'd like it to be, 'cause then I could solve it."

"Of course. To answer you Detective, I don't know who would have done it. But I'll tell you this," Daniel said sternly as he leaned forward. "At the risk of sounding callous, you'll be hard pressed to find someone _not _personally invested in Jason Whitestone's death."

* * *

><p>Maura said the last of her goodbyes to the Colonel, promising him that she would stop by for a visit with his wife someday soon. Jane sat at her desk, listening to Maura's hearty laugh before she heard the familiar clip of heels against the marble floors echoing closer.<p>

"All done talkin' cop theories with your ex-girlfriend?" Jane asked without looking up from her desk.

Maura's pace slowed until she stopped short of Jane's desk. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You play cops and killers with all your friends, Maura? Or just the ones you've slept with?" Jane continued, loudly flipping the page in her notes.

"She had a right to know _all _of the possible theories of this case. She was upset; the implications of her father being a murderer and all," the ME countered, crossing her arms.

"I've jumped through hoops to make sure that your friend and her father are treated well. Hell, if Korsak wasn't so damn invested in the Patriots game he would have reamed me for letting them all be in the interrogation room like that. The least you could do is leave the speculation and investigation to me, and keep her out of it. Since when do you _speculate _anyway? There are rules, Maura. Lots of them!"

"What does it matter, Jane? It's not like it harmed anything! You were about to tell them all the exact same thing! I beat you to it. I'm sorry. I was only trying to keep her calm. She was upset."

"She's got a wife for that," Jane snapped, breaking the tip of her pencil against the paper and tossing it into her trashcan.

"Is this about the case anymore, Jane?" Maura asked, throwing up her hands. "Or is it about what almost happened in my office and your general discomfort with my ex-girlfriend?"

Pushing out from her desk, Jane strode over to Maura, facing her. "I'm not jealous of your ex-girlfriend, but I am a cop and I can have you taken off of this case if it's too personal for you."

Maura recoiled like she'd been slapped in the face and began taking a few steps backward. It was clear to her now that Jane was going to push any feelings she had into the deep recesses of her brain, boxing them up to keep for later. "You do what you think is best, Detective Rizzoli."

Jane's eyes widened at the words and she watched the ME turn on her heels and walk in the opposite direction. "Stop, Maura! Wait."

Eyes brimming with tears, Maura kept her poise, refusing to turn around as she retreated from Jane's office with her head held high. She probably would have made it, too, if Jane's hand around her wrist didn't halt her stride

Jane whipped Maura around to face her again, watching the tears streak down her face. She felt like a monster for causing those tears and adding to Maura's burdens. With a shaking hand, she reached to wipe the tears away. Maura flinched and knocked Jane's hand away. Undeterred, Jane pulled her by the lapels of her jacket, trying to get Maura to look at her. When the ME refused, Jane tipped her chin up and took a forceful step forward until she felt the other woman's back hit Robbery's door. With the doctor's sharp gasp echoing down the precinct's deserted hallway, Jane Rizzoli leaned forward, without thinking, without _considering_, and kissed Maura Isles.


	5. Chapter 5

**Something Old, Something New (Chapter 5 of ?)**

**Authors: ****roughian**** and ****foreverleyton**

**Rating: NC-17, overall. We promise it will be! For now, PG-13.**

**Fandom: Crossover: Rizzoli and Isles/Callie and Arizona**

**Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected: Callie meets Arizona's favorite ex; Maura's got an itch Jane wants to scratch. Oh, and there's a murder, too.**

**Chapter 5 Summary:** Jane and Maura are caught up in suspects and sob stories, Baby Sofia gets a cameo (even if it is digital), and thanks to Arizona and Maura's convincing, all four of our girls drink and be merry.

**A/N: **We want to say a quick thank you to all of our readers. We have had so much ridiculous fun writing this story but it's great to hear you all are enjoying it, too!

* * *

><p>Maura sighed against Jane's mouth, the detective's badge and the hilt of her gun digging into her hip. It thrilled her to have Jane so close. Her fingers tangled in messy curls, keeping Jane anchored. The brunette whimpered softly, a sound so surprisingly delicate that Maura wasn't sure who had made it.<p>

As Jane started to pull away, opening her mouth with an apology perched precariously on her tongue, Maura tugged her back in, their lips colliding again. This time she was the one making fluttering sounds as she felt Jane's hands encircle her hips, pulling her closer. The ME wanted nothing more than to leave the office now and continue this in her lavish townhouse where she could make Jane cry out her name.

It took three rings of the detective's phone to finally pry the couple apart. Jane blushed and fumbled for the cell while Maura stood up straight, coquettishly dragging her thumb across the corner of her mouth where her lipstick had assuredly smeared.

"Uh—Jane…Rizzoli here, Detective," the brunette sputtered. "Uh, oh. Yes. Who? Right. The Whitestone case. Oh, she is? Can you send me an address? What? I have it already? Oh. Ok. Great. I'll head over now. Um, yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask? No, no. I'm not out of breath. I'm fine. Okay. Bye."

Staring at Maura, Jane stabbed the button to end her phone call. "That was, uh, Ninzoti. Officer I had watching Grace Jackson's place. She's, ah, she's home. I guess," Jane shrugged uselessly.

"Want me to tag along?" Maura asked, unable to meet Jane's eyes.

"Let's, um, Frost. Let's get him. And then sure, if you're not busy."

"Sundays are dismally slow for cadavers. I don't know what it is. Perhaps everyone's propensity to stay indoors," Maura tipped her head up, brows furrowing. "Or maybe they don't…"

Jane listened as Maura trailed off and then fell silent—no doubt continuing the narrative internally—while she called Frost to meet her in the hall where she and Maura were still standing.

"So…" Jane began.

"So," Maura agreed.

"Um. That was…"

"Unexpected?" Maura asked.

Jane frowned and dropped her gaze to the floor. "Oh."

Stepping forward Maura whispered, "Jane. Not bad unexpected. Just unexpected. And good. Very, very good."

"Yeah?" Jane asked.

"Yes," Maura smiled and nodded.

"So, uh…what next?"

"Well," Maura drawled, her own answer reflected obviously in her eyes. "I think that might be entirely up to you."

Smiling slightly at Maura's not-so-veiled invitation, Jane kept her eyes locked on the doctor, even after she heard the familiar clomp of Frost's loafers marching down the hall.

"Yo," Frost called when he saw his partner and the doc standing in the middle of the hallway. "Grace Jackson home?"

"Yeah," Jane nodded, smiling one last time at Maura before turning to face Frost. "Let's go talk to her. The doc's going to come, too."

"Cool," Frost agreed amiably, grinning at Maura. The trio walked down the hall together, Frost holding the door open for both girls. Maura thanked him graciously but Jane punched him in the stomach as she passed. Which was how she usually paid him back for such chivalry. Jogging to catch up once he caught his breath, Frost hopped in the car's back seat and asked, "So, what's our strategy?"

"According to all reports, Grace Jackson is about 21 years old, lives with her mother. The background check you ran tells us she's smart: 2 years of college, scholarship, at BU. But she dropped out and last filed W-2 has her employed as a waitress at some hole diner on East Third. Jason Whitestone must have felt like winning the lottery for a girl like that."

"I know I suggested a man his age would appreciate the attentions of a younger woman but how can you be so certain she is a…a conquest?" Maura asked skeptically.

Frost and Jane both laughed at Maura's question. "Pretty girl, rich man. 'Conquest' is almost always the right answer, Maur."

"We go in hard?" Frost asked, leaning forward so his head peeked between the two seats. "Shake her up; scare her. We already know she can get sloppy."

"Not too hard," Jane disagreed. "A girl that age, any contact with the cops is probably enough to scare her. I don't think we'll need bad cop."

"True," Frost agreed. Then he frowned, "Except she grew up in Southie. People in that area, they don't like cops, sure, but they aren't generally intimidated. More like pissed."

"Fine," Jane sighed, recognizing Frost's game. "Just…lose the baby face, will ya?"

"Can't," Frost beamed. "It's a gift and a curse."

Jane moaned but she relented. "Alright. We get attitude from the girl, you can be bad cop. Maybe the bad attitude and cheeky grin will be disarming."

"Yes," Frost exclaimed, pumping his fist in delight. "I love bad cop," he added gleefully before leaning back in his seat to practice his monologue.

* * *

><p>The rest of the ride to Grace Jackson's house was uncharacteristically quiet. Jane feigned excessive interest in the post-game on the radio, listening to the same disgruntled callers as usual, arguing with Gil Santos about the piss poor pass-rushing that ultimately led to the Patriots' staggering loss. Frost muttered something about his fantasy team taking a hit and Maura gazed intently out the window, knowing that she wouldn't be able to look at Jane without a flush blossoming from her chest all the way up to her face.<p>

The drive from downtown to South Boston took less than fifteen minutes but the distance between the two was enormous. The house in question was a tiny thing; closely cramped onto a street lined with similarly narrow and shoddy architecture. Maura sighed, a sound that made Jane laugh as she parked the car and got out, letting Frost out from the back seat. The younger detective tucked his phone into his pocket as he crawled out, grumbling about his decision to bench Ray Rice today.

Taking initiative, Frost trotted in front of the two women, leading them the short distance to the front door. A meager vegetable garden (in buckets) sat beside a rusting grill and warped patio furniture on the porch. In the face of such obvious decay, Jane was sure nervous palpations had set in for Maura.

A few seconds after Frost's knock, a young brunette appeared at the door wearing Christmas-themed pajama bottoms and a faded Boston University sweatshirt. "Yes?" She asked the trio.

Definitely fashion-police palpations at least.

"Grace Jackson?" Frost began. "We're with the Boston PD, Homicide. We need to ask you a couple of questions."

Grace looked thoroughly confused. "Yes. I'm Grace. What is this about?"

"We are investigating Jason Whitestone's death," Jane supplied. "We traced a search of his financials. The IP was registered under your name and address."

"Oh. Come in," Grace said quietly as she held open the door.

Jane was the first one to enter, noticing the cramped quarters of the kitchen area. The table was littered with envelopes marked "past due" in intimidating red ink. Jane was instantly brought back to her rookie year in uniform. Debt was no picnic.

"Sorry about the mess," Grace mumbled as she cleared away as much of the junk from the table as she could. "You guys can sit here. Can I get you anything?"

"No, miss, thank you," Frost smiled. "But have a seat."

Reluctantly, the young girl filled the fourth chair and kept her eyes trained on her hands before looking up again.

"We need to know: why were you hacking into Jason Whitestone's financial records?" Jane asked. "Looking at extremely personal and confidential information."

"Did I…are you going to arrest me? I mean I know what I did was against the law but…"

Jane could feel the girl's fear, coming off her in greasy waves. "Look. We're here about a murder. If you're honest with us, if you tell us everything…it'll be a lot easier for you."

Grace sighed and scrubbed a weary hand through her hair. She looked up at Jane with tired brown eyes. "I should probably just show you. Come this way," she gestured.

Confused, the investigators got up from the table. Passing through the living room where a small TV played reruns of _Friends_, they climbed the stairs, Jane resting a hand on her gun while Frost brought up the rear of the group.

Grace opened the door at the top of the landing, inviting them inside a small room, its painted walls once probably a pale blue now faded to a depressing yellowish green. A quick peek inside revealed a very frail woman in a hospital bed, sound asleep. Pretty pale blue scarf tied around her head. Trays of medications, supplies scattered the room and machines blipped methodically. All three of the visitors got an eyeful before Grace closed the door gently.

"My mother is very sick," Grace sniffled, steeling herself with a few quick, even breaths.

"So you thought stealing from Jason Whitestone would be the way to help with this?" Jane asked, trying to mask the begrudging sympathy in her voice with concern, mind flashing to her own mother.

"No!" Grace whisper-yelled.

"We have witnesses who overheard you and Jason arguing, and, on one occasion, you leaving his office in tears. Boyfriend?" Frost added, sternness showing up in his tone. "Sugar daddy?"

"Sugar, what?" Grace paled, and then grimaced. "Boyfriend? No."

"Well then what is it?" Jane asked, ignoring the way Maura intently stared across the hall into the apartment's only other bedroom. When the ME slinked away, Jane guessed she'd seen something to trigger her curiosity. Nearly anything could do it; she'd have Grace Jackson's room dissected and committed to memory before they moved back downstairs.

"Jason Whitestone is my biological father. He got my mother pregnant, then left us both. When Mom got sick, I tracked him down, hacked into his computer to see the millions of dollars that scumbag had in all these accounts, and I asked him to help us. To help his child and the mother of his child." Grace brought a shaky hand to her face to wipe away a tear.

"I take it that didn't go the way you planned, then?" Jane asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"He told me no, flat out. Said he could give me a few hundred dollars. A few _hundred_ dollars. I make that in two nights at Chester's—where I waitress. It was like a slap in the face."

When the girl began to cry quietly, heavy tears dripping down her face, Maura stepped over from where she had moved, slipping a careful hand under Grace's arm. "Why don't we go back downstairs, Miss Jackson? Detective Rizzoli is going to want you to start at the beginning and we shouldn't disturb your mother's rest."

Grace glanced at her mother's door automatically, wiping the tears from her cheeks furiously. "Yeah. Sure. Ok. I-I'm going to get some water. Is—Is that allowed?"

Moving to follow Maura and Grace back down the stairs, Jane said, "Yes, of course. We'll be, ah, in the living room." Halfway down, Jane caught herself appreciating the way Maura's hips swayed in her pencil skirt. She stopped short so quickly, Frost crashed into her back. "Shit. Sorry," Jane murmured, casting her eyes directly towards her shoes.

After less than a minute wait, Grace returned, a plastic cup trembling in her hand so that a splash of water sloshed over the edge, and she sat on the room's only chair. Left with little choice, Jane, Frost and Maura piled together on the tiny couch. To her credit, Maura barely grimaced when a popped spring snagged her skirt.

Taking the lead, Jane leaned forward and told Grace, "Dr. Isles was right, Grace. We need you to start at the beginning."

Grace shuddered out a deep breath and began. "I-I don't know much about the beginning. When I was a kid my mom told me my father was dashing." Grace laughed but the sound was bitter. "Like a fairy prince. She was a freshman in college, Officers. She wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. She…She's so sweet," the girl sniffled. "She would have been a wonderful teacher.

"But," Grace continued, "she got pregnant. He was at Harvard; Mom was at Radcliffe. Their very own _Love Story_. Except Mom waited until she was 42 to catch cancer. And the boy never stayed."

"So your mother got pregnant and your father got gone, huh?" Frost asked. Jane rolled her eyes at his poor grammar to sound tough.

_Some bad cop._

"Ah, yes. Exactly. Told her he wasn't interested in a kid. Offered to pay for an abortion and when she refused, he never offered money again. But Mom's tough. She…she was a good mom. _Great_ mom. W-we didn't have much but she…she tried so hard to make sure I didn't notice. She worked so hard. When she got sick…" Grace trailed off.

"When she got sick?" Maura probed gently.

Grace's voice cracked on a barely restrained sob. "She-she didn't go to the doctor. Told herself she was fine because she couldn't afford the time off of work. I was in college. God, I was so happy. I was out of Southie, you know? Out of the neighborhood and _in college. _It was wonderful but it was distracting. Time consuming, I guess," Grace admitted, staring down at her spread hands. "She was sick and I didn't see it. I didn't see it, until she passed out at the bank where she's worked since I was a baby. Colon cancer."

"Colon cancer is highly treatable," Maura offered.

Grace rubbed the back of her hand under her nose and nodded wearily. "It is, when it's caught early." Her eyes teared again as Maura nodded. "Either way, it's expensive. I-I dropped out of school, moved back home, found work. But the bills…and I just…I couldn't do it anymore. So when I was going through my mother's papers for the insurance company and I found my birth certificate, I figured it was a sign. She listed that bastard as my father, even though he wanted no part of me. Of us."

The mere mention of her father dried Grace's cries and Jane and Frost both noticed the way her eyes hardened beneath the sheen tears. Add Grace Jackson to the list of people not sad to see Jason Whitestone dead.

"Do you know that he's stealing from people?" Grace demanded angrily. "I was a computer science major with a minor in business. Figured it was the best way to make sure I never had to move back to this neighborhood." Grace scoffed at that and glanced around the tiny room. "So much for that plan. Anyway, I know what a Ponzi scheme looks like when it flashes across my computer screen. I figured if I couldn't appeal to his common decency, I could at least use that. You know, bribe him into giving me some money? Between the financials and the…scandal—abandoned daughter and all that—surely he'd give me a couple grand so my mom could get into a study at Mass Gen."

"But he refused?" Jane guessed.

"Oh yeah," Grace muttered. "Didn't flinch. Told me I was in way over my head. He was probably right," she shrugged. "I was…trying to figure out what to do next when I heard on the news he was killed."

The last line was said without emotion—neither the glee of an ex-wife nor the grief of a daughter. It was emotionless.

"Ms. Jackson, where were you the evening your fath—the evening Jason Whitestone was killed?" Frost asked.

Grace's eyes widened and she flinched as though she had been slapped. As if the idea that she could be a suspect had only just occurred to her. "Oh, God. You don't think that I…seriously?"

"We're simply covering our bases," Jane offered gently, hating her role of good cop but playing it well.

"I-I…it was Saturday right? At night?"

"Yes," Maura nodded. "Early evening."

Squinting her eyes in consideration, Grace shrugged. "I worked until around 3:00 or so. My neighbor, she sits with Mom, when she can. You can ask her—I was home about 3:15. After that I was here, with Mom. She, um, she shouldn't be left alone for long periods of time."

"Can your Mom corroborate this?" Frost asked, throwing in a frown for good measure.

"I…um, sure." Grace glanced up to the ceiling as though she could see her mother through the plaster. "She's sleeping and…it's really hard for her to sleep these days. Do you have to wake her up?"

Frost started to reply but Jane stopped him with a hand in the air. "It's best for you if we do," Jane said. "Dr. Isles can come with you and take your mother's statement. If we wait to talk to her," she continued, "your alibi will never be solid. You're going to want to wake her up."

* * *

><p>Stepping into her car and stretching rigid muscles, Jane had just about enough of questioning witnesses today. The rich broad, the Colonel, and now this poor girl with her sick mother. Today's interrogations were turning into some twisted game of Clue. The detective wished she could peek inside the tiny envelope and find out who killed Jason Whitestone at the Onyx with the knife.<p>

"So Doc," Frost interrupted the car's silence, "did the mom say Grace was with her?" Frost squirmed in his seat when the car jumped over a bump, anxious to get out of the cramped back seat.

"She did. In fact, she raved about how diligent Grace has been; how she sleeps at her bedside every night. It was very altruistic and moving," Maura said softly with glanced at Jane. "Debra Jackson indicated Grace was home by at least 4:00 pm and did not leave until her shift the next morning."

"Ok. She's got motive, I guess, but an alibi. Little weak, but we'll check with her job and the neighbor. Confirm her story. The Christmas pajamas didn't exactly scream murderer. Frost, keep an eye on her comp activity for a while. I _really_ don't want to arrest that poor girl for something stupid. Like trying to steal e-funds from a dead man."

"Got it," Frost agreed. "Wish there was some way to get her some cash, though. Seems a shame she won't get anything when the guy had millions."

Maura's audible sigh from the passenger's seat shook Jane from her reverie, her head physically hurting from so much processing and tying together loose ends.

"Yes, Maura?" Jane smirked to the obviously brooding ME.

"I'm having trouble figuring something out, that's all," Maura said.

"Well," Jane drawled, "why don't you share with the class? Maybe the _detectives _can help."

"It's just odd," Maura mused. "I don't understand how a woman of Grace's socioeconomic standing has a Vivienne Westwood shawl lying around."

"English, Maura," Jane grumbled as she hunched forward on the steering wheel, happy for the red light so she could close her eyes for a moment.

"Vivienne Westwood only puts out a limited number of her hand-stitched evening scarves for public purchase. Her fall line that year was incredible. Ah, 2008," Maura smiled fondly. "The scarf is dated but it's rare and quite expensive."

"Okay, Maura. It's a scarf. It could be a knock off, maybe something she got as a gift."

"I believe it was authentic. And if it was a gift, she should try to sell it, use the money to help her mother. I wish I had mentioned it; maybe she doesn't realize its value." Maura sighed again and Jane caught the pity beneath the sound.

"I know," Jane nodded, understanding. "It was extremely sad in there. This whole day's been sad," she grumbled. "I need a beer. Frost, you need a beer?"

"No way, I have a date," he boasted, grinning so wide Jane caught the glint of his white smile in the rearview mirror. "She's gorgeous."

"Good for you, Barry," Maura encouraged, smiling despite herself. "I'd like a drink, though, Jane. Perhaps we could invite Callie and Arizona? They've had a difficult day—weekend, really—and I'm sure they're anxious now that you've ordered them to stay in the city."

"Wait, your hot lesbian friends? Maybe I can reschedule—"

"Frost!" Jane chided. "You're not rescheduling. And Maura, I really shouldn't be fraternizing with witnesses…Material witnesses."

"Oh, it will only be for a few drinks. Strict rule: we won't talk about the case, which would be a relief, honestly. It's been a stressful day. I could benefit from some decompressing. And I know you could too," Maura smiled toward Jane. "Besides, you know as well as I do that Arizona's father did not kill that man."

Quickly, Jane felt her resolve slip away as she sighed, pulling up to the station and getting out to release Frost from the back seat. "Fine. Invite all the suspects you want. But we're going to my place and taking shots first. I need a buzz for this."

"Pre-gaming the girls only party. Please take pictures," Frost pled, a woeful expression darkening his features before he crawled out of the back seat, waving at both women.

Jane slammed his door closed and got back into the driver's side, meeting Maura's grin coupled with that familiar mischievous glint in her eye.

"What?" Jane asked as she shifted the car into drive.

"Nothing. I sent a text message to Arizona. She and Callie are going to meet us at 10:00, so that gives us plenty of time for your shots. But I'm telling you, Jane Rizzoli, under no circumstances are you convincing me to sing karaoke again."

The detective guffawed as she broke out into a warbled version of "It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now."

* * *

><p>Callie walked through the suite, pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail while she looked for her wife. "Hey, babe," she called out, peeking into the bathroom and frowning when she found it empty. "Do you want to go to your parents' place? I know Jane told us all to, ah, lay low or whatever but—Arizona Robbins!"<p>

Arizona jumped from her perch on the corner of the bed, the iPad bouncing on her lap. Pressing a flustered hand over her chest, she glared at Callie standing in the doorway. "You scared me to death, Calliope!"

Callie pointed at the iPad and stalked towards her wife. "I _told _you to leave that damn nanny cam alone. Mark's not going to—"

"Mami!"

Callie jerked to a stop as the unmistakable squeal of her daughter interrupted her tirade. "S-Sofia?" Callie asked doubtfully, sliding down to sit next to her wife who was now beaming. Whispering as though they were doing something secret, Callie asked, "Can she…_see _me?" When Sofia reached forward and tried to grab Callie's face through the screen, Callie laughed and smacked Arizona's knee. "She cansee me!"

Stepping into view of the camera, Mark smirked, "Of course she can see you. That's how Skype works, Cal."

Before Callie could respond, Arizona slapped a hand over one eye. "Why? _Why _must you refuse to wear a shirt, Mark?"

The classic Mark Sloan grin he flashed did little to charm Arizona. Flexing his muscles dramatically, Mark asked, "Seriously, Blondie? Would you cover this up?"

"Oh, God," Arizona rolled her eyes, still trapped behind her blocking palm. "Calliope, make him put on a shirt!"

Callie, who was distracted watching Sofia run in circles around the room, for no apparent reason, grunted. "Huh. Sure, you look good Mark."

"Calliope!"

"What?" She turned to stare at her wife, finally realizing what she had said. _This is what happens when you're not paying attention, Torres. _"Oh." Left with nothing to do but laugh, she tackled Arizona playfully and pushed her back on the bed. Hovering over her wife, Callie toyed with the bottom of Arizona's threadbare t-shirt. "You could take off your shirt," she suggested, lifting the hem an inch. "Show him that your chest is better than his. That would teach him."

"Callie," Arizona giggled, instantly sidetracked by her wife (as usual). "Sofia can see you!"

"So," Callie shrugged, caressing the skin she exposed with her fingertips. "It's nothing more than she's seen before."

"True," Arizona agreed.

"Hey, Torres, can you turn the screen a little to the left? I can't quite see where you've got your hand." And with that, Arizona shoved Callie aside and sat up again.

"Thanks, Mark," Callie muttered.

"Anytime," he winked.

"Oh, hush. Mark, hold Sofia still for a second, will you?" Arizona asked.

Mark snagged his hyper toddler and held her, giggling and upside down, in front of the screen. Arizona rolled her eyes but she guessed it would have to do.

"Hey, sweetie," Arizona smiled. Her fingers itched to tickle the belly exposed when Sofia's shirt bunched under her arms. "Mama misses you so much."

"Yep," the little girl squealed as Mark flipped her back around. "Miss me," she parroted.

"Are you being a good girl?"

"Mmhmm," Sofia nodded earnestly, her eyes wide. "Home?" She asked hopefully.

"Oh," Arizona sighed and traced a finger over the image of Sofia's cheek. Callie moved behind her to wrap the blonde in her embrace.

"Soon, _mi carina_," Callie assured the girl. "Very soon." Tucking her chin against Arizona's shoulder, she continued, "Can you blow Mama a kiss, big girl? She needs some Sofia kisses right now."

Everyone laughed when Sofia scrunched her face up into a frown of intense concentration before her expression suddenly cleared in a delighted grin. She smacked an open palm over her pursed lips and drew out an exaggerated smooch before swinging her palm back wildly, hitting Mark in her enthusiasm.

"Wow!" Arizona exclaimed, blowing an equally giddy kiss back at her daughter. "That was a big kiss! You're such a big girl, Sofia."

"Uh huh," Sofia agreed and she wiggled desperately out of Mark's grasp to resume her wild circles.

Glancing at his daughter, Mark grinned into the screen. "I think she's done. You get enough Sofia-time Robbins, or you want some more?"

Arizona smiled because Sofia-time was exactly what she needed and Mark never begrudged her that. "No, let her play. I got enough. Thanks, Mark."

"Anything you need," he shrugged. His gaze softened and his voice quieted when he added, "Seriously, you guys, anything."

"Thanks, Mark," Callie responded, reaching around Arizona to flick the iPad off. She nuzzled into Arizona's shoulder and murmured, "Do you want to call your parents? Stop by for a visit?"

"Mmm, no," Arizona sighed, arching her neck so Callie had more room to explore. "It's late. Dad's going to have to tell Mom about the investigation and I can't—I don't want to relive it again, tonight. Maura texted a few minutes ago. She wants us to meet her and Jane for drinks. No talking about murder allowed."

"Oh, really? Do you wanna go?" Callie asked as she pressed errant kisses against Arizona's neck, a little unnerved at the idea of hanging out with the cop that interrogated her father-in-law just a few hours earlier.

"It might be fun. Maura's pretty hilarious when she's drunk. And maybe you can give Jane a pep talk," Arizona smiled as she rolled over to face Callie.

"Then later we'll have a suite all to ourselves when you get drunk and handsy."

Callie pulled Arizona closer. Something about seeing their baby paired with her beautiful wife in her arms had the happy-go-luckies replacing her earlier feelings of dread. "First, why is it my job to talk to Jane? Second, you're the one with the drunk-whispering! And the 'please baby I want to go home,' Miss Two-Can Sam."

Gasping, Arizona playfully tried to wiggle out of Callie's embrace, but the Latina locked her arms around her. "You get Jane," Arizona giggled. "In that brooding, badass kinda way. It's sexy."

Callie nipped at the hollow of Arizona's throat, mumbling, "Sexy, huh?" against her skin.

"So sexy," Arizona whispered, arching her back when Callie's fingers slipped under her t-shirt, grazing across her skin. "So so sexy," she murmured.

"You're sexy," Callie grinned, rolling Arizona's shirt up and off of her.

"God, Calliope," Arizona moaned as she felt Callie's knee slip between her thighs. "No teasing."

"Mm, fine. But text your friend," Callie smirked and popped open the button on Arizona's jeans. "Tell her we're gonna be a little late."

* * *

><p>Jane swigged from her third MGD, amused by the way Maura played with the detective's Droid, sliding her finger rapidly across the screen. The brunette leaned closer, peering at the blinking screen and watching as Maura's look of determination turned into disappointment. Frustrated, the sandy-blonde handed the phone back to the detective.<p>

"How do they expect you to win a game like that after imbibing so much alcohol? Certainly they had that in mind with their haphazard disbursement of grenades," Maura seethed and sipped from her wine glass.

Jane bit back a laugh as she watched Maura rant, gulping more beer down. "Maura, it's Fruit Ninja. You got a score of like 650. That's incredible."

"I don't understand what kind of ninja would waste fruit like that. Ninjas were historically honorable; why would they waste fruit?" The ME lamented, looking away in tipsy disgust.

"Maura, it's a game. No fruit has been harmed in the making of it!" Jane smirked, secretly enjoying the flustered face of her colleague.

"Well it's quite a silly game," Maura huffed before draining the last few drops of Moscato from her glass. "So silly."

"You're strangely competitive," Jane observed. "You beat me and Tommy _and_ Frankie's score. Happy now?"

The ME smiled widely. "Yes."

"Knew that'd help ya," Jane grinned as she signaled for another glass of wine from Kirk, the bartender.

Maura graciously accepted her fresh glass of overly sweet wine, knowing the sulphates were going to attribute to a hangover in the morning (not to mention the shots Jane had talked her into at the brunette's apartment), but she didn't mind. It had been a rough few days something as ordinary as a hangover would be a welcome relief. Turning her head, Maura glanced sidelong at Jane, studying her form in the simple white button down she was wearing. Her hand, almost of its own accord, took Jane's left hand into her lap.

"What are you doing?" Jane wondered idly.

"Rolling up your sleeves properly. They're all bunched. You should do this evenly," Maura said softly as she straightened out the cotton and began delicately cuffing them as perfectly as she had promised.

"T-thanks," Jane croaked, feeling the tickling presence of Maura's fingertips against her skin. Each brush felt like little explosions; miniature dynamite. Fierce.

Maura lifted her gaze to meet Jane's once more and the pair shared a bashful smile. The ME was reminded of high school boyfriends with Jane. All grins and goofiness, but hearts of gold deep down. She loved that about Jane, how genuine she was beneath all the bravado.

"Well, hello," Callie chirped as she sidled beside Jane's barstool. "Are we interrupting something?"

Cutting Maura off before she could answer incriminatingly, Jane smirked. "Maura's showing me the proper way to cuff my sleeves."

"Cuff your sleeves, huh?" Arizona smirked as she wrapped her arms around Callie from behind, brushing her nose into her wife's leather jacket. Pretending to whisper but purposely projecting her voice, Arizona grinned, "Maura always was a good teacher of…_sleeve cuffing._"

Callie didn't take offense at Arizona's comment. After all, the brunette's sleeves had just been exceptionally cuffed. Instead she laughed when Jane's eyes went wide and lightly elbowed her wife's stomach. "Moron," she sighed. Then to Jane, "Ignore her."

"Already am," Jane replied, toying with the peeling edge of her beer bottle's label.

"I'm kidding," Arizona giggled. "Can I buy you another beer, Detective?"

"Sure." Before Arizona could turn to offer Maura an unnecessary refill, Jane held up her hand. "No, you know what? Shot of Herradura instead, please."

"Ooohh," Callie exclaimed, excited. "Tequila. Yes, please," she smiled at her wife, hopping on the stool closest to Jane.

"Tequila? Awesome!" Arizona pumped her fist. "I love tequila night!"

Arizona headed off to the bar and returned before Jane expected; apparently the dimples were some sort of magic line-mover. Deftly passing out drinks, Arizona dropped two shots of tequila and two MGD chasers in front of Callie and Arizona. Jane's brows rose when Arizona put a gin and tonic in front of both Maura and her own seat. Pointing at the clear drink, Jane asked, "I thought you loved tequila night?"

Ignoring Callie's snort, Arizona nodded, "Oh. I do," she agreed.

"Then…?" Jane drawled questioningly.

"She is implying that she enjoys nights her spouse drinks tequila, Jane. It, ah, makes for interesting interactions in the bedroom."

"Interesting interaction—Oh, God!" Waving her hands in the air, Jane demanded, "No. No, no, no. No talking about…interesting interactions tonight."

"You know, Jane, a healthy sexual relationship is beneficial on both physiological and psychological levels."

"Then these two should be as healthy as a couple of thoroughbreds at the Kentucky Derby. I don't _care_, Maura. The subject is off the table. As of this minute."

"Personally I prefer _on_ the ta—," Callie cut herself off when Arizona kicked her under the table. Callie clinked her shot glass against Jane's. "We'll stop. Promise." Kicking back her own shot with a delighted shiver, Callie added, "Drink up, Detective."

"I'm so glad you two decided to join us," Maura added as she drank from her gin and tonic.

"Honestly, I didn't want to come," Callie admitted. "Drinking with the woman that was trying to convict my family of murder earlier in the day just doesn't seem—"

"Normal. Good, glad I'm not the only one," Jane winked, smirking some.

"Always the blunt one," Arizona giggled.

"You married me knowing that full well," Callie teased as she shrugged out of her leather jacket.

Jane caught herself smiling at the couple, so obviously into each other and in love. She unconsciously glanced at Maura who was giving her one of those looks that instantly brought about chills.

"So, um, you ladies play pool by chance?" Jane coughed, glancing back at Callie and then Arizona.

Callie tipped back another shot of tequila. "Oh, you are so on, Detective."

* * *

><p>Arizona angled her body over the corner of the pool table, squaring her shoulders and straightening out her pool stick so that she could sink the pesky blue 5 ball that waited at an irregular angle. She bit her lip, focusing intently on the ball in question.<p>

"Aw, come on," Jane whined. "You are the most particular pool partner I've ever had. Do you think you're gonna move it with your mind?"

"Shush," Arizona countered. "You said it was unfair for me to be on Callie's team after we whooped your ass three times."

"Oh, she's drunk," Callie grinned to Maura. "The 'A' word is coming out. Only when she's super drunk or super angry…"

Maura laughed as she playfully bumped shoulders with Callie. "I recall Arizona's mannerisms being similar to that while 'super drunk' as you call it."

"She's pretty damn adorable," Callie laughed.

Arizona did indeed sink her shot and lifted her arms in triumph. "Woo!"

"That a girl, baby!" Callie grinned. "Oh, I mean. Boo! We're not on the same team."

Arizona grimaced playfully and put her hands on her hips. "Come on, Maura. Come take a shot with me."

"Oh, I sense my having to use a PTO day tomorrow," the ME giggled.

"Look at you, Maura Isles. Being negligent!" Jane smirked, realizing she was going to have a long morning, having used up all of her PTO time due to long nights in front of the TV cheering on her Patriots. And that reminded her.

Turning to Callie while Maura and Arizona staggered to the bar, Jane smacked her on the arm. "You!" She shouted. _Ok, maybe a little drunk._

"Yes, me," Callie agreed. She had no doubt the detective could drink her under the table but no one handled tequila better than Callie Torres. "What about me?"

"You own the Miami _freaking_ Dolphins!"

"My father owns the football team."

"Yeah, that's what I said. You own the Miami Dolphins."

"Ok," Callie agreed with a nod. "I do."

"Do you get to, I don't know, hang out with the players? Have you actually met Jason Taylor?"

"I have," Callie said. "Once. Wait, maybe twice."

"Maybe twice. Holy crap."

"He's good, huh?" Leaning close to the detective, Callie grinned, "And so hot."

"Yeah?" Jane asked. "I mean on TV he's—"

"Hotter in real life," Callie interrupted.

"Damn. Wait. Are you allowed to say that?"

"Why?" Callie smiled, tongue in cheek. "Because I'm married?"

"No! Well, yes. But I mean because you're…you're…"

"Gay? Lesbian? Lover of ladies?"

Suddenly, and sincerely, interested, Jane sipped from her bottle to give herself time to answer Callie's teasing question. "No. Not exactly. But yes." Taking a deep breath, Jane rushed on, "Look, I'm not stupid. You're bisexual. I get it. But you're in a relationship—you're _married _to a woman. Shouldn't you be…all about girls or something?"

Callie smiled and set down her pool stick. Apparently Arizona was right; she got Jane. "First time I had feelings, real feelings, for a woman, she was a friend. I went from enjoying her company, to always wanting to be around her to—holy shit—_I want to kiss her_. It was…surprising," Callie admitted on a laugh, thinking back. "And it sent me running into the arms of a man. Another best friend," she shrugged.

"I get that," Jane admitted. "Maura and I, we, uh—Shit. I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this."

"We're drunk, you wanted to arrest us this morning, and now we are drinking shots at a bar when I am supposed to be on a flight to Seattle. Plus there's the fact that I am married, to a woman. Seems to me, I'm the perfect person to talk to about this."

Jane laughed and rolled her eyes. "I guess you're right. This morning, I kis—she kiss—we kissed today and it was…"

"Nice?" Callie ventured. "Nicer than nice?"

"Shit, what is this? Show and fucking tell, the sex version?"

"I don't need a picture, Jane. I'm saying, you liked it, the kiss. That's all."

"Yeah," Jane breathed a sigh at Callie's insistent understanding. "I-I did. But after, for a second, I wanted to grab the nearest guy and kiss him. Just to prove that I wasn't…you know?"

"I do," Callie agreed, letting Jane off the hook. "I do know. But here's the thing: you find the guy, you kiss him. Maybe you take him home with you. And still when you close your eyes, what is the last thing you think about?"

"She is," Jane whispered, almost to herself. "Even before. Maura is."

"There's no label for that, Jane."

"Maybe," Jane shrugged, downing a swig of beer. "What happened? With your friend? The girl?"

Callie winced. She had hoped to gloss over that part. "It didn't work out," Callie admitted. "I screwed up, she screwed up. It ended and I won't lie, it ended badly. It ruined our friendship." She saw Jane's frown and understood that possibility weighed heaviest on the detective. She was considering what to say next when she saw Arizona watching her from across the room. Smiling at her. And suddenly the answer was clear. "That's the risk, Detective. And it's a big one. Even with Arizona, it hasn't been easy or-or safe. But," she added, laying a hand over Jane's to ensure her attention. "When I fall asleep at night? The last thing I think about is the person sleeping in the bed next to me."

* * *

><p>Maura held the shot glass, sniffing it as she watched Arizona do the same. "This smells like no Washington apple that I've ever eaten," she lamented as Arizona clinked her glass against the ME's.<p>

"Let's just hurry up and take them. Jane and Callie have been having a heart to heart for far too long."

Maura let her gaze shift over to where Jane and Callie were huddled close, Callie speaking and Jane nodding her head. The detective's jaw was clenched, her arms folded across her chest in a way that suggested she was absorbing every detail of whatever the Latina was telling her.

"Good idea," Maura nodded as the pair raised their glasses then dumped back the liquor.

Simultaneously, they came back up for air, coughing and drinking from their gin and tonics to eradicate the taste from their mouths.

"Oh, God," Arizona groaned. "I still can't do shots, not after—"

"Elizabeth Veltri's party? With the shots of—what was that?" Maura shivered, setting her empty glass back on the bar.

"Jagermeister," Arizona gagged.

Maura grimaced again. "I've never been much for hard liquor after that," she blushed. "Interesting evening, however."

Arizona's mind, although still foggy on the goings-on of said party, clearly remembered making very good use of Elizabeth's laundry room. At that thought, both Maura and Arizona looked away from each other with matching expressions of amusement, both recognizing a small hint of pride.

"We should head back to them," Maura grinned. "I would love to know what your wife's been saying to Jane to hold her attention for so long."

"Oh, I'm sure it's interesting. I think some of the Robbins' rhetoric has been rubbing off on Callie."

Maura smirked at the thought, recalling many a-Arizona Robbins speech in the past.

When Arizona and Maura walked back to the pool table, Callie stopped speaking and immediately she noticed the flushed features of her wife followed by the equally glassy expression of Dr. Isles behind her. Jane, confused why her wealth of Sapphic knowledge had gone suddenly quiet, turned around and grinned at the sight.

"Maura Isles, are you drunk?" Jane teased, watching the doc's face wrinkle into what she assumed was a pout.

"No, I'm not. Well, okay, maybe I am. Arizona and I just took a shot of some sort of apple."

"Washington Apples?" Callie smirked in disbelief. "I can't believe you took Washington Apples."

"Believe it." Arizona winked and she slid forward, wrapping her arms around Callie, holding her by her hips before none-too-discretely walking her back behind the pool table. The brunette did not protest, welcoming tipsy Arizona kisses any night of the week.

"So," Jane began as she sipped from her beer, "enjoying yourself?"

Maura eyed the couple smiling into their kisses, whispering in between them, and then looked back to Jane woefully. She wanted to be doing that. Maybe not here, but she definitely wanted to be doing that.

Realizing it was her turn to take a chance, Maura curled a hand around Jane's waist and leaned close to her ear. She felt Jane tense beneath her hand but she still whispered, "Do you see Arizona's rapid eye movement and erratic breathing pattern?"

"Ah," Jane glanced towards the couple that was unabashedly making out against the far pool table. "Honestly, I noticed Callie's hands on her ass first."

Maura nodded and smiled in response before pulling Jane closer. "Arizona is exhibiting signs of increased amounts of d-dopamine," she informed Jane, her numb tongue stuttering her words slightly.

"Uh huh," Jane sighed, swigging from her beer and doing her best to avoid staring. "So?"

"It's the brain's pleasure chemical," Maura said, her voice deepening. "Research indicates it is released when the orbito—the or-bit-to-front-al cortex—whew!—is stimulated."

"Maura, please tell me this is not your way of hitting on me."

"I…" Maura sighed and stole a small sip of Jane's beer. She grimaced through the sip but took a second one anyway. "I just thought you should know…that-that standing by you…" she trailed off.

"Standing by me?" Jane urged her.

"I am exhibiting the same signs," Maura finally admitted, her words rushing together.

"Huh," Jane laughed, watching the doctor's chest rise and fall rapidly. When her eyes stayed locked on Maura's breasts for more time than necessary, Jane blinked and looked up in time to catch Maura's smug smile.

Twining her fingers with the ones Maura dug into her hip, Jane whispered, "Maura, do you, uh, want to get out of—" But before the detective could finish her invitation, her phone rang, the station's telltale _Miami Vice_ ringtone blaring through the speakers.

Recognizing the tone, Callie finally pulled away from her wife on a burst of laughter. "You're kidding, right?" She shouted at Jane. "_Miami Vice_?"

"Shut up," Jane retorted, snapping her phone open. Neither Callie nor Arizona missed the fact that Jane's free hand was deliberately linked with Maura's.

"Rizzoli," Jane barked into the phone. After several minutes of 'uh huhs,' 'oks' and 'shits', Jane closed the phone and tugged Maura's hand. Pulling her closer to Callie and Arizona, Jane announced, "Matthew Nevins just bought a plane ticket to Costa Rica."

"And?" Arizona asked, confused but instinctively shading closer to Callie, comforted when Callie wrapped a hand around her waist.

"And he is a suspect in the death of Jason Whitestone, one we have been trying to get in touch with. A suspect," she added, "who was seen fighting with the victim the night of his death."

"And one whose alibi is Jason's ex-wife," Maura added, trying to remain composed even though her own orbitofrontal cortex continued to register extreme pleasure at the simple feeling of Jane's hand against her own.

"You mean a suspect who takes your investigation away from Arizona's father?" Callie concluded.

"Far away," Jane nodded. Then glancing at Maura, and smiling slightly, Jane added, "But the doc and I, uh, _this _doc and I," she laughed, "should get home. Since he's at an airport, Feds get to do the cease and detain on Nevins. Feds mean paperwork in the morning."

"Plus you'll probably have some real police work to do," Callie added.

"That too," Jane nodded. "You two can get back ok?"

"We can," Callie nodded, adding a meaningful smile towards Maura and Jane's hand holding. "Have a _nice _night, Detective," she smirked.

Jane blushed and her fingers went slightly lax against Maura's. But when Maura instantly squeezed them, demanding contact, Jane shrugged and replied, "Nicer than nice, I hope."

* * *

><p>Maura handed Jane a bottle of water from the refrigerator before taking her own, opening it at the same time the frazzled detective twisted off her own cap. Jane gulped down half of the bottle quickly while Maura took two shorter swigs for the same effect.<p>

"Damnit, this case is gonna kill me," Jane started, opening up one of Maura's cupboards. "Do you have any Advil? I need to take some and pray I don't wake up hung over tomorrow."

"You mean Advil to take now? Jane, that's dangerous after drinking," Maura said before taking another sip of water.

Jane scrubbed her hands through her messy curls, sighing.

"Just drink another bottle of water. Most of the effects of a hangover are due to dehy—" but Maura stopped herself, watching Jane chug the rest of her bottle and wrench on the tap to refill it.

Jane was working on chugging her second bottle while Maura capped her own and set it on the counter. Tentatively, the ME placed her hands on Jane's hips, emboldened by the alcohol. Jane quirked a brow, glancing down around the bottle of water. Taking a deep breath and turning in the ME's arms, she set her empty water bottle on the counter next to Maura's.

Smiling, the detective placed her hands on top of Maura's before sliding up those smooth arms and soft elbows, pulling the sandy blonde into her in one move. Maura smiled; a slow, stretching grin that let Jane know exactly what was going on inside her occipital whatever the hell it was.

"I'm going to kiss you now," Maura announced, not giving Jane time to react as she leaned in and sealed the small space between their lips.

Jane groaned softly into the kiss, tightening her grip on Maura, pulling her closer. As crazy as this case was making her, Maura was proving herself a good grounding point. Jane sighed, listening to Maura's muffled moan when her hand strayed to the ME's perfect ass and palmed it.

Maura broke away from the kiss, only to put a chilly hand on Jane's throat, coaxing her to tip her head back. Jane deftly followed the gentle urgency of her colleague's hands and nearly growled when she felt those lips on her neck, pressing warm open-mouthed kisses against the flesh there.

"God, Maura," Jane gasped.

The ME just laughed, sultry and smooth against Jane's neck, her lips kissing down across the juts of her collarbone, to the hollow of her throat. Her fingers found purchase against Jane's back, underneath her t-shirt.

Maura had always loved Jane's voice: husky and deep, with a sexy growl buried under the edges. But to feel that voice rumble beneath her lips when the detective moaned her name was a thrill greater than any Maura had experienced.

Hoping to cause that sensation again, Maura scraped her teeth up Jane's neck and allowed her hands to push up the detective's back, pulling Jane's shirt up in the process.

Jane shivered when cold air rushed across her skin, sending goose bumps up her torso. The shock was enough to clear Jane's head and she pulled back with more of a jerk than she intended.

Maura recognized the detective's retreat and immediately withdrew, holding her hands in the air as though surrendering. "Oh!" She mumbled, "I…I'm…I'm sorry?" She ventured, aware that an apology was a lie and unsure the effort was warranted here.

"No," Jane shook her head and grabbed Maura's hands, pulling the doctor close once more. "Don't apologize."

"Ok?"

"I want to kiss you again, Maur."

Maura's eyes instantly gleamed with delight and she leaned in again. "Good," she breathed across Jane's lips.

"But—" Jane muttered before their mouths could meet.

"Damn," Maura sighed, her brain clearly still muddled.

Jane laughed at the obvious disappointment in Maura's single curse. "But I don't know if I'm ready…I don't think _we _are ready for more. Yet."

"Yet?" Maura ventured tentatively. "There will be more, then?"

"I think—yes," Jane nodded firmly, convincing herself and Maura at the same time. "Yes."

"Yes," Maura breathed, her smile blooming.

"I don't want to be drunk. Or tired. I don't want you to be worried about your friends. Or drunk. I—"

"You want it to be special," Maura guessed softly.

"God, no. I'm not a cliché, Maura. I want it to be important. Because it is."

"Oh, Jane. Me too."

"Ok," Jane nodded. "Good. Now, can we make out on your couch for a while? Or is that just a girl/guy thing?"

Maura laughed and tugged Jane toward the sofa. "Tonight, it's going to be a girl/girl thing."

Jane tensed slightly at the words before relaxing into the image. Scooting close to Maura on the couch, Jane pressed soft kisses down Maura's neck, reveling in the sigh that trembled from the ME's lips. Whispering against her collarbone, Jane asked, "Can I sleep over?"

"I—I," Maura shivered. "I need to prepare the guest room," she finally said.

"Oh," Jane murmured, her tongue still tracing patterns over Maura's skin. "I think we've moved past that, Dr. Isles. I may not be ready to have sex with you, yet—"

"Yet," Maura repeated firmly.

"But tonight, I'd really like to sleep with you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Something Old, Something New (Chapter 6 of ?)**

**Authors: ****roughian**** and ****foreverleyton**

**Rating: NC-17, overall. It's bbbaaaaccckkkk...**

**Fandom: Crossover: Rizzoli and Isles/Callie and Arizona**

**Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected: Callie meets Arizona's favorite ex; Maura's got an itch Jane wants to scratch. Oh, and there's a murder, too.**

**Chapter 4 Summary:** Less murder and more…other things. Jane and Maura conquer dating and Callie and Arizona visit the in laws.

**A/N **We both want to apologize for the delay. Our longest time between chapters yet! Our work lives have gotten busy lately and have made it hard to find time to write together (it doesn't help that Leyton is the slowest editor around, either). But don't worry, we are committed to this story and having way too much fun to stop before it's finished. Thanks for your patience.

* * *

><p>Callie dragged her teeth along the spot on Arizona's neck that had recently been left with a small bruise, the lovechild of alcohol mixed with need. Arizona arched her back, wishing the hand that was raking none too gently down her thigh would travel back up and relieve her of the mounting tension she so desperately wanted relieved. Callie felt the hands on her back dig in, fingernails biting into slightly perspiring flesh while Arizona let off a loose moan of "Calliope, please." The Latina hissed a breath at the stinging down her back, panting at the look of Arizona underneath her, cheeks red and mouth parted, eyes fighting to stay open.<p>

Callie would be lying if she said she didn't love a vulnerable Arizona and took the opportunity to hoist the blonde's right leg over her shoulder, her fingers slipping through slick, hot heat to find purchase on Arizona's clit. She was treated with a moan of relief—a fluttery, delicious sound that caused every muscle in Callie's body to tense. She wanted Arizona to make that sound again, wanted to hear her scream. To come.

Callie's fingers swirled around that sensitive bundle of nerves, patience depleting when Arizona arched off the bed again, her hands moving to tangle in long, dark locks. Callie gasped when the tug was less than gentle and sought out Arizona's mouth for a heated kiss, trying as best she could to keep it going between the mutual panting and moaning.

Arizona cried out again as Callie's fingers left her clit, toes flexing in response to the fingers curling inside of her, hitting all the spots that made her eyes fight rapidly to stay open. Callie was struggling to breathe evenly as Arizona tipped her head back, crying out. The sounds were like magic. Callie had become so accustomed to quiet, secret sex—which was hot, in it's own way. But listening to the symphony of sounds coming from Arizona was a thrill she could barely remember. Callie wanted her wife hoarse in the morning, coquettishly covering her bruises with a sweet little giggle and blush while she let Callie soothe her war wounds with gentle kisses and caresses.

But now was not the time for teasing; now all Callie wanted was for Arizona to come. She could feel her wife tensing around her fingers, feel Arizona's hand revisiting the stinging streaks on her back. Her thumb came up to join the tantalizing rhythm of her fingers and Arizona gasped, muffling her scream into the hotel's pillow. Callie stopped abruptly when she noticed her wife's actions.

"No, no way. We are spending hundreds of dollars to stay in this hotel. I want you to scream."

Arizona turned her head out of the pillow and smiled slyly at her wife, even as a whimper trembled from her lips when Callie moved deliberately inside her. She used her hand buried in sweaty curls to pull the brunette back down to her, tugging Callie's bottom lip between her teeth and soothing the burn with her tongue. "I'll scream," she panted against Callie's mouth, "when you make me come."

Taking her wife by surprise, Arizona slid her leg off Callie's shoulder and wrapped it around her waist, slipping a hand under Callie's leg at the same time and flipping them over with one smooth, practiced move.

"Fuck," Callie moaned when she found herself on her back. "I _love _when you do that," she admitted, arching her back when Arizona ran her slick heat directly over Callie's.

"I know you do," Arizona smirked, rising up to straddle her wife. Grasping Callie's hand, Arizona pulled it back to her center and shivered when Callie immediately resumed her previous touch, her thumb brushing Arizona's clit while two fingers pushed inside her. From this position Arizona could move, riding her hips against Callie's fingers and taking the pace quickly from languid to frantic.

As much as Arizona loved this position, she knew Callie loved it even more. She knew how much Callie liked to watch her wife, to run one hand up and down Arizona's torso and palm her breast while the blonde rode herself to her own pleasure. When Callie bent her knees and lifted her hips, bucking her hand deeper into Arizona's surging hips, Arizona gave into the intense pleasure thrumming through her body; she arched into Callie, dipped her head back, and screamed.

God, Arizona," Callie mumbled as she listened to her name ricocheting off the walls in the expansive suite. She loved hearing it, especially when Arizona's voice cracked and tapered off to soft, whimpering sounds before the blonde collapsed on top of Callie.

Callie ran a soothing hand over Arizona's back, still feeling the tremors wrack through her—tiny aftershocks to one powerful earthquake of an orgasm. She felt it the moment Arizona finally relaxed, her breath evening out to a steady rhythm. Callie knew that tell; Arizona had most likely fallen asleep, alcohol and sex draining her of energy.

Gently removing her fingers, Callie started fishing for the blankets that had been kicked far to the left of the lavish king sized bed. Arizona's head lifted from her chest, sly smile spreading across her still pink face. Callie knew that look, watching one of Arizona's eyebrows arch, her tongue swiping across her lower lip, causing Callie to shiver.

"Sleepy?" Arizona asked as she picked her head up, sliding her hands down Callie's arms to her hands, tangling her fingers with those of her wife, delighting in the sensation of the wedding ring against her opposing hand. She hoped that feeling would never get old.

"Mm, thought you'd passed out on me," Callie grinned as she felt Arizona slip their tangled hands above her head.

"Nope," Arizona chirped and leaned down to nip at Callie's lower lip with her teeth, tugging on it.

"Good," Callie said when Arizona released her lip. "'Cause I'd be very disappointed if we went to sleep without you fucking me."

Arizona shivered; she loved how bold Callie was in the bedroom (and in all aspects of life, actually). "That would be stupid of me."

"It would be," Callie teased as Arizona dipped in again, pressing kisses against that tan neck.

Arizona smiled when she heard Callie gasp, untangling their fingers so that she could touch every inch of that golden skin properly. She started at Callie' strong shoulders, running down along the curve of her biceps and then against her forearms. Callie shuddered at the tickling sensation of those nimble fingertips, arching her hips in hopes of redirecting their attentions elsewhere. Arizona picked up on it, dragging her hands down along the curve of Callie's breasts, then against her torso—hips—thighs.

"Spread your legs," Arizona said softly, Callie thrilling to the slight raspy quality of her voice as she did as she was told.

Arizona began her descent, kissing first between Callie's breasts and then making a beeline to her thighs, shimmying further down the bed as she slipped between Callie's legs, strong thighs instinctively slipping over Arizona's shoulders. Callie gasped when Arizona bit against the inside of her thigh, soothing it over with her tongue. But Callie wanted that tongue a little higher, a little to the right, her hands tangling in impossibly soft blonde locks in the hopes of encouraging her wife to where she wanted her.

Arizona, usually patient, usually intent on teasing Callie till coming was the only option next to being driven crazy, had to give in. She pressed a kiss in the crease just shy of where Callie wanted her to be, listening to the whimpered plea from her wife. Arizona consented, running the flat of her tongue through Callie's slick folds and feeling the tremors in the thighs secured around her.

Callie's fists tightened in Arizona's hair, pushing her closer. Arizona moaned, the rumbling feeling exceptionally good as the blonde continued those long, languid motions with her tongue. Arizona knew Callie needed more though, and she slipped a hand from one of those thighs to drive two fingers inside of her wife. Callie gasped when Arizona's tongue started more definitive motions against her clit, circling and flicking alternating maddeningly with sucking.

Their long weekend of sex—giggling morning sex, quiet comfort sex, against the wall tipsy sex—should have lent Callie patience. Restraint. But the freedom to make love to her wife whenever she wanted, however she wanted, as many times as she wanted, had Callie wound tight with a desperation that their busy life rarely had time to accommodate. So when Arizona pumped her fingers in and out, sliding deep, and sucked Callie's clit into her mouth where her tongue could skim rapidly across the sensitive nerves, Callie felt the orgasm curling her toes and climbing across her limbs.

It was slow-motion and fast-forward, the way Arizona made her feel, a tingling crawl that trembled over her skin but sprinted through her veins. The dueling sensations made Callie giddy, almost giggly, with delight but she knew her wife would understand, and appreciate, the sound. She could sense Arizona's enjoyment when the she felt, literally _felt, _the blonde's smile against her center. She came in a panting, moaning, and yes, laughing rush, her legs shifting impatiently against sateen sheets until she finally squeezed her thighs around Arizona's head in a silent request for relief.

Understanding the demand, Arizona pulled back slowly. She brushed soft, worshiping kisses along Callie's core, reveling in the shivers she continued to elicit. She pulled her fingers out of Callie carefully, conscious of the over-sensitized flesh, before moving up her wife's body to lay along her side. Resting her head against Callie's shoulder, Arizona ran damp fingers in random patterns along the brunette's stomach, waiting for her breathing to level. When she heard Callie sigh, and felt her body finally settle, Arizona nodded solemnly, her cheek brushing along Callie's collarbone. "I know," she agreed with Callie's unspoken pledge, "I love you, too."

* * *

><p>Sunlight streaked through Maura Isles' impeccably clean windows, bathing Jane in a light she didn't want at this hour. Her eyes slowly opened, blinking against the brightness with a disgruntled groan. Her head felt like someone had smashed it repeatedly with an aluminum baseball bat and her mouth was as dry as the Mojave. <em>Christ<em>. Why did she think drinking that much on a work night was acceptable?

The only reprieve from her hangover was the soft body curled up beside her, head tucked against her chest, arm strewn over her stomach. Jane glanced at her bedmate, whose pretty features looked so peaceful, peeking out from a mess of sandy-blonde hair and the cave-like covering of her duvet. Jane froze in place, suddenly remembering how she and Maura had crawled into bed together and uncertain when their drunken and sleepy kisses had faded into sleep. Part of her wanted to wake the doc up with more kisses and snuggles but the other part of her couldn't help wondering what in hell she was doing. Alcohol's residual effects only facilitated the feelings of anxiety, sending her heart pounding and breath racing.

As if subconsciously recognizing Jane's internal debate, Maura tightened her hold around the detective, her lips moving into a small smile against Jane's skin. Even in her sleep, her dimple popped and it made Jane laugh softly. The sound, and the rumble of Jane's chest, caused Maura to inhale deeply before blinking awake. The bright shine against eyes unaccustomed to sunlight sent her burrowing against Jane's shoulder even further with a broken plea for "more minutes."

The detective peered past Maura to the clock on the nightstand. It was 6:11, only a half an hour earlier than her usual rising time. She considered the workday ahead of them both—murder, dead ends, a host of suspects who all had alibis—and then glanced back down at Maura's reluctantly awakening gaze. Why had she picked this career path again?

Maura lifted her head off of Jane's shoulder, checking the clock as well. "Mm, I need to shower, but this is quite comfortable and I seem to have severe cephalalgia."

"Um. What?"

"A headache," Maura answered on a yawn, "most likely caused by dehydration."

"You mean a hangover," Jane smirked, still hyper-aware of where she was and who she was with. "Wanna call in sick?"

"Normally I would refuse to do that unnecessarily. Certainly not when this is my own doing," Maura protested, her lips brushing Jane's shoulder through the t-shirt each time she spoke, her arm tightening around the detective's middle.

"I won't tell," Jane offered.

Maura laughed, appeared to consider Jane's offer for all of five seconds before resolutely shaking her head. "No, I can't, Jane. I'd feel so guilty. Besides, we owe our time to Arizona and Callie. To Jason Whitestone, even. I should get up and take a shower. You can use the second bathroom if you'd like."

Jane blushed, wanting to say: _Why don't we just shower together?_ But all that came out was a nervous: "Okay, sure. Thanks."

Recognizing the shy quality that usually didn't fit itself in the same category as Jane, Maura's brow arched. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Maura. This is just... ya know, different. Waking up here."

Maura blinked, furrowing the brows that were once arched. "You've slept here before."

"Not like this, I haven't," Jane rebuked.

"Are you regretting your decision to stay?"

Jane felt Maura's hand slink off of her stomach and quickly grabbed the retreating appendage. "No, Maur. Not at all."

"Oh, good," Maura grinned, watching Jane's face carefully. It went from bashful stoicism to calm in a matter of seconds.

Jane shifted position in the bed so that she was facing Maura and leaned in, resting her forehead against her colleague's. Maura slid her hands around Jane's waist, playing under the t-shirt (emblazoned with Maura's charity of choice—P.U.K.E) she'd lent her to sleep in, thumbs brushing against angular hips. Jane pulled the duvet down, exposing the tank-top clad doctor who made a playful sound of protest at the lack of warmth.

Reverently, Jane slipped her hand under the material of Maura's pajama top, moaning softly at the feel of all that soft skin beneath her fingertips. Her gaze swept hungrily over the woman beside her; those perfect breasts, those toned arms. The ME inhaled sharply at the contact and shifted onto her back, giving Jane more room to explore.

"I—I didn't know," Jane admitted, sweeping a reverent hand across Maura's stomach.

"Didn't know what?" Maura stuttered, her stomach caving at the sensation of Jane's palm against bare skin. She had imagined Jane's touch, certainly, but the reality of such a strong, competent hand rendered hesitant by the feel of Maura's flesh: it was, well, beautiful.

"That you would feel like this. Soft. I expected soft. But you're strong, Maura. Yoga strong, I guess. Different."

"Different?" Maura asked, her face scrunching into an expression of uncertainty.

"Mmmhmm," Jane nodded, allowing her fingers to count ribs as they moved perilously close to Maura's chest. Smiling slightly at Maura's distress, Jane shrugged. "I like it. I didn't know."

"Oh," Maura sighed, trembling when Jane let her fingers just barely brush the undersides of her breasts. "I-I'm glad, Jane. So glad."

"Me too," the detective replied, bending down to taste the skin exposed along Maura's neck when she arched her head back. "I was worried."

"Wor-worried?" Maura's hands tightened around Jane's waist, holding her in place.

"I know I like _you_. I really wanted to like this."

"And do you?" Jane could feel the way Maura tensed beneath her. Her Maura, so smart, so confident, so disarmingly vulnerable.

Tracing her lips along Maura's shoulder, nudging her top out of the way as much as she could, Jane mumbled against Maura's skin, "Mm. I do." She pressed soft kisses along the flesh she had revealed, surprised by how badly she wanted to tug the buttons of Maura's top open.

She knew Maura would let her when she heard the doctor moan, "Jane. Kiss me." It was blissfully reminiscent of the night before and Jane found sobriety only enhanced the thrill that raced through her at Maura's request.

Pulling back slightly, Jane didn't try to control the satisfied smirk Maura's plea incited. "Dr. Isles, you surprise me. I had you pegged as the 'no kissing before teeth brushing type.'" She punctuated her tease by dragging her nails down the sandy-blonde's torso, discovering the feel of Maura arching beneath her.

Maura blushed at Jane's question but she giggled when Jane dug a finger into her ribs, tickling her through her embarrassment. "I am, normally," she breathlessly confessed. "You've overwhelmed my sensibilities."

Jane laughed and dropped her head to rest against Maura's. "Overwhelmed your sensibilities," she mimicked. "You kill me, Maur."

"I hope not. I haven't gotten what I want from you. Yet," Maura batted her lashes and streaked her own hands up Jane's sides.

_So this is what it feels like to be on the receiving end of Maura's flirting._ "What do you want from me?" Jane asked, aware she was playing with fire, considering the way her hips rolled against Maura's when the doctor streaked her hands up and down the length of Jane's ribcage.

"A date."

Surprised, Jane stopped the movements of her hands over Maura's torso. "A date?"

Maura nodded. "Dinner. Alcoholic beverages. Conversation."

"Maura," Jane whined, "we do that all the time."

"Perhaps, but this time I want to imagine what you are wearing beneath your clothes while we talk." Holding up a finger to stop Jane's retort, Maura smiled, "Before you ask, yes, I do that all the time too. But this time," she added, pulling Jane down close to her, "this time I want you to _know _what I'm thinking about."

"Christ," Jane moaned, enjoying the way Maura's breath rushed over her ear. "Ah, tonight. I could-I could cook."

"You cook?"

Jane buried her head in Maura's neck before she nodded. "I can make Ma's Osso Bucco. I know you love it."

"I do," Maura smiled. "I didn't know you could make it."

"We can all cook at least one dish perfectly. Ma made sure of that. Only way she could be sure we wouldn't starve. Osso Bucco is mine."

"How serendipitous," Maura laughed. "But are you sure you wouldn't rather go out? We could—"

"No," Jane interrupted, quickly. Too quickly, she realized instantly, lifting her head to see Maura's expression darken. Rushing on, Jane shook her head fiercely. "Don't go there, doc. I don't give a rat's ass what anyone thinks. I don't want to go out because if you're gonna be imagining my underwear, I'd rather it be in private. Where you actually have a shot at getting a peek. Besides," she added, "I want to cook for you. I think I'd enjoy it. I like surprising you."

"You do," Maura murmured. "Constantly."

Shrugging off the thrill that crept up her spine, Jane smirked, "Also, I wanna make out on the couch again."

* * *

><p>Arizona listened to Callie sing in the shower, belting out Adele lyrics that were slightly warbled and distorted by the shower's steady spray. It was adorable. Callie was always cheerful after sex. And since they'd gone well into the morning, she must have been feeling exuberant by now. Arizona chuckled as she heard Callie botch the lyrics to "Melt My Heart to Stone," wondering why her wife chose such a melancholy song to belt at the top of her lungs.<p>

She loved that Callie sang, even if the Latina couldn't hold a tune in a bucket. When she sang to Sofia, her voice dropping against the baby's ear, the little one was always instantly soothed by her Mami's voice. That thought made Arizona miss their baby girl so much that it kind of hurt, even though she was grateful Mark's presence allowed them to see this matter through. He called every morning, giving Sofia the phone so she could babble and chatter to her Momma in the early morning, just like they did at home while Callie slept in late. Arizona appreciated the gesture but it wasn't the same. Skype or not, she wanted to hold her daughter.

Picking up the phone to call Mark, Arizona noticed an unread text message from Maura reading: 'How are you and Callie holding up?'

Arizona quickly typed back. 'We're fine. Thanks for asking. How did it go with Jane?'

Innately curious about her ex's new affairs, Arizona awaited Maura's response, hoping for a new, juicy detail about the sexy, gruff police detective. Instead of a text, however, Arizona's contemplation about the rest of Maura's evening was cut off by the ringing of her phone.

Glancing at the caller-id, Arizona chuckled to herself before answering, "Hey, Maura."

"Hello, Arizona. I'm not disturbing you am I?" Maura asked softly, making Arizona wonder if she was whispering.

"Nope, not at all. We're just kind of hanging out. Callie's taking a shower, then we're probably going to venture around Boston and grab some food. We're supposed to see my parents tonight for dinner."

Fiddling with her earring with one hand, a nervous gesture Jane and Arizona would both recognize, the ME walked to her office door, making sure it was closed. "Please tell your parents hello again from me. It was good to see your father, despite the circumstances."

"Thanks, Maur. I will. How was it last night? Did you and miss bad cop, uh, come to an understanding?" Arizona teased, watching as a towel clad Calliope strolled past her field of vision, still humming Adele.

Maura grinned to herself, taking a seat back at her desk. This comfortable banter and understanding conversation was exactly why she had called Arizona. "It was fine. We went to sleep. That's all. Well, mostly all. Jane is—this is new for her. Plus, we were rather intoxicated. May not have been the most opportune time to explore a…_deeper understanding_."

Arizona smirked some. "I know how that goes."

There was a brief lull of silence because Arizona was distracted, watching Callie's towel hit the floor and exposing all of that tan, beautiful form to her eyes.

"Arizona?" Maura probed, wondering if the silence meant she'd lost wireless signal in the basement of the BPD again.

"Oh, yeah, right. So, what's the next move?" Arizona replied as Callie, curiosity piqued, turned to her wife in nothing but blue boy shorts.

_Lord_.

"We're going on a date."

"That's awesome! A date!" Arizona chirped, mouthing the word "Maura" to Callie and pointing at the phone.

Callie did a little happy dance for the new potential couple.

"Right. It's wonderful. Except I'm very anxious. And I generally don't get act like this, but I am and I don't know exactly how to handle this type of anxiety." Maura rambled. "And therein lies my predicament."

"What's the problem, Maur? You seem to like her," Arizona said, pouting some as Callie put on a bra and then a stupid t-shirt.

"I do like her," Maura sighed.

"Then why the nerves?"

"Nerves?" Maura asked, pushing a hand through her hair and wondering if Arizona could somehow see her frustrated movements through the phone. "Perhaps this is all due to a psychosomatic response to the unfortunate recent events. Maybe it's not about Jane at all," Maura mused, clearly trying to convince herself.

"This isn't about my father, or Tim, or that jackass Whitestone. You never believed for a second that my father was involved in that man's death and you have too much faith in the process, and in Jane, to believe that the Colonel'll be a suspect for long. You don't sound anxious, as you put it. You sound nervous. I know you, Maur, remember? You sound the same way you did when you got that B in biochemistry our second year at Hopkins. You were nervous then, too."

"Well, honestly, Arizona, a poor mark in biochemistry can derail a medical student's entire—"

"It was a _B, _Maura, not a poor mark. Besides, we're talking about Jane." Arizona tried to hold back the laugh when Callie, now fully clothed, flopped beside her and began to whisper-sing, 'Maura and Jane sitting in a tree…' Smacking her wife's leg to shush her, Arizona continued, "Why are you nervous about Jane?"

"Because I like her," Maura exploded, surprising herself and instantly spinning in a circle to make sure her empty office was still, well, empty. "I like her," she said again, more softly. "I think too much."

"Ah," Arizona nodded, understanding. Nothing scared Maura Isles more than actual human emotions. Especially when she was the one feeling them.

"This is moving so fast except—"

"Except when it's not moving fast enough?"

"Exactly," Maura nodded against the phone, grateful to be understood. "She's my best friend, Arizona. Maybe the only one I've ever had."

"I know," Arizona agreed softly, curling up against her wife's side while she talked to her old friend.

"I've had feelings for her for so long now. I assumed they would always exist, on some level, in secret. But then you came and you and Callie, you are so happy. Outwardly delighted by each other."

"We are." Arizona couldn't help herself. Snuggled against the woman in question, she knew Maura was right, and didn't try to quell the burst of pride. She and Callie were happy. And they had fought hard to get there.

"I suppose your visit awakened certain memories, certain, ah, feelings in me. Certain wants."

When Callie whispered, "Why don't you just tell her Jane thinks she's hot, too?" Arizona giggled and clamped a hand over her wife's mouth.

"I'd say it also introduced a certain awareness in Jane. She had no idea you were open to relationships with women, Maur. Now, only a few days after finding out, you two are going on a date. Sounds like she has wants, too."

Maura fiddled with her pen, tapping the end to the Vivaldi playing softly on the radio behind her. "You're right. You think I need to let it happen."

Arizona beamed, feeling like her own Dr. Phil. "Yep, you just need to let it happen. You can't analyze or dissect or plan this. When it works, _if_ it works, it'll be more than you ever expected anyway."

Callie nodded emphatically beside her wife, whispering: "Sing it."

* * *

><p>Veal was gross. Jane knew this—she could tell by the way the raw meat felt against her fingers while her mind raced with nerves. Why she'd agreed to prepare it for Maura was beyond her. Veal wasn't sexy. She should have chosen linguine with red sauce or eggplant. Eggplant was so…<em>purple<em>. Purple was probably sexy. Veal needed to be beaten with a kitchen tool that looked like a medieval torture implement. Jane bludgeoned the veal like she was mad at it, warranting a lot of cursing and a change of clothes.

But sexy or not, the Osso Bucco was simmering on the stove and Maura was expected to arrive any minute. Resisting the urge to fetch the Patron and pound a few shots, Jane peeked under the lid of the dutch oven she stole from her mother. Smelled like Ma's. Here's hoping it tasted that way, too.

After wiping her hands on the dishtowel strewn over her shoulder, Jane eyed the table she'd set. She had chosen to go with the soft blue Fiesta dinnerware—a housewarming gift from her parents; silverware all in its proper place (she'd Google'd) on actual cloth napkins that she'd even dusted off the silver napkin rings for. It looked real, legitimate, especially flanked by the wine glasses Maura bought her in Switzerland last winter. A self-satisfied smile crept across Jane's face.

She could be domestic.

At precisely 7:00 the doorbell rang and Jane took a deep breath. She'd been expecting Maura to show up punctually, but still. Somehow the unfamiliar ringing of her bell made it a little more real. They were doing this. Jo looked up from her perch on the sofa expectantly, tail wagging at the prospect of house guests, though Jane suspected Maura—with her designer dog treats and belly rubs—was a fan favorite of her canine companion.

Who could blame her?

Jane unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal Maura. Jane was sure the doctor's blinding smile matched her own and the pair spent a moment taking the other in. Maura liked Jane casual best. Today's ensemble of tight dark jeans, bare feet and a simple black long-sleeved v-neck was perfect. Certainly not something the doc would wear herself, but she liked that about Jane. She wore what was comfortable and pulled it off with such unintentional style. Maura, on the other hand, all loose, perfect waves, navy blue dress and strappy shoes to match, was the picture of glamour. Jane's heart was in her throat, choking her usually raspy voice to a mere mumble of "C'mon in."

Smooth.

"It smells amazing, Jane," Maura said as she crossed over the threshold, surprise evident in her tone.

"Told ya I could cook one thing. Osso Bucco is that thing." Jane glanced at the newly rejuvenated Jo, whose nails skittered across the hardwood as she ran to Maura.

Maura, even in her dress, daintily crouched down to scratch behind the pup's ears, somehow remaining ladylike and poised even in such a compromising position. Jane swooned a little. Again.

"Uh, wine?" Jane asked. "I got all kinds of that weirdly named white that you like."

"Viognier?" Maura said as she stood back up. Approaching the bottle Jane gestured to on the counter, Maura regarded the label critically. "The appellation of Condrieu at the northern end of the Northern Rhone is devoted solely to the Viognier variety of grape. Serious drinkers of the wine insist the grapes were brought to Rhone by the Romans more than two thousand—"

"Maura," Jane interrupted, tapping her spoon on the side of the pot to punctuate her moan.

Cocking her head to the side with a small smile, Maura asked, "Yes, Jane?"

"Oh don't 'yes, Jane,' me," Jane demanded. She pointed her spoon at Maura and continued, "You know I don't care if the wine came from a grape they grew in a community garden in Southie. It's never going to taste better than beer anyway. But this is a date," she added, playfully frustrated. "Does that mean I'm suddenly supposed to pretend like I care?"

Now Maura's smile was full bloom. Somehow Jane's obvious nerves calmed her own. Stepping up to the detective, Maura set the spoon on the counter and slid her hands around Jane's waist. Kissing Jane's chin, Maura answered her, "You don't have to pretend to care but, I confess, I'll probably still tell you about the origins of Osso Bucco over dinner. I can't help it."

"I know," Jane sighed. "It's adorable, really. As long as I don't have to really pay attention."

Maura giggled against Jane's neck and sniffed there, enjoying the scent of spices that mingled with the simple Dove soap she knew Jane used. "This is a date," she agreed with Jane's earlier assessment. "But you don't have to act differently. We've had dinner before," she reminded Jane. "This will be exactly the same. Except," she stepped closer and pulled Jane tighter against her, "now I get to do this." She laid her lips lightly against Jane's. It was barely a kiss, but it got her point across.

Smiling shyly, Jane announced, "I think I'm going to like dating."

"Oh," Maura nodded, turning back to pour a glass of wine, "you will enjoy dating me." Reaching into the fridge she pulled out one of Jane's beers and smiled. "Here," she handed the MGD over. "Nothing has to change."

Jane accepted the bottle gratefully and tipped it back before pointing it to Maura's glass. "More wine for you, this way."

"True," Maura agreed. Unaware Jane was still watching her, Maura took a deliberate sip of the perfectly chilled wine. She closed her eyes, moaning quietly in appreciation of the taste and didn't see Jane's shudder.

"Christ, you're good at this."

"Good at what?" Maura asked after swallowing her mouthful of wine.

"This," Jane gestured to Maura. "The wine and the dress. The sexy."

Canting her head to the side, Maura's brows knitted. "How can someone be good at 'the sexy,' as you put it?"

Jane laughed in response to the demure smile perched on the doc's lips, wetting her own as she stirred the Osso Bucco again, deliberately turning so Maura couldn't see her blushing. "You know what I mean."

With a wicked smirk, Maura looked away. She didn't want to make the already flustered detective even more nervous so she instead turned to survey the dinner table. Amused that Jane even owned matching dishes, she realized the glasses on the table were the ones from Ticino. That small detail made her heart flutter in her chest and it was in that moment—watching Jane cook and mumble something about the Patriots—she realized, abruptly, that this was what she craved.

Normalcy. Friendship. Family.

Jane gave her all of that. And then some.

"Okay, are you ready to eat? I think this is done," Jane said as she whipped around, noticing Maura standing by the table, staring. "Maura?"

Maura sighed, happily, no longer staring at the place settings, but simply in an unfocused manner. "Yes, sorry? What?"

It wasn't often Jane caught Maura off guard, but she rarely questioned what went on inside the doc's head. Brilliant, definitely, but the myriad of thoughts that ran through that mind was a little too jarring—even for savvy homicide detectives.

"Are you ready to eat?" Jane repeated as Maura blinked rapidly, glancing upward and away from her spot by the table. The detective wanted to ask if she was about to cry, but she wasn't sure that Maura's certain honesty would solve her confusion anyway.

Shaking her head to clear it, Maura nodded. "Yes. Let's eat. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yeah, can you carry that bread over there?" Jane inclined her head towards a basket on the counter and moved to serve two generous plates of food. When she dropped the plates on the table, Maura's eyes widened.

"Oh my."

Jane shrugged and Maura realized instantly the gesture was pure Rizzoli. "It's a lot, I know. But I figure this way we won't have to get up. And you won't have to do that girly date thing where you want more but you refuse to ask for it."

"I never do that."

Jane snorted. "Sure you don't. You, Maura Isles, are all girl."

It may not have been intended as a compliment but Maura beamed anyway. "Thank you, Jane," she said over the detective's laughter. "How did your meeting go with Matthew Nevins?" She asked the question, even as she lifted her fork to taste her first bite of the meal Jane prepared.

"You wanna talk murder?" Jane queried, frowning at the ME. "On our first date? Wouldn't that be…weird? Or creepy? Or something?"

"Not at all," Maura assured her. "In fact, I assume to _not _talk about murder would be weird. For us. After all, it's how we spend the majority of our day. And I have a vested interest in this case."

Jane continued to frown but she shoveled a bite of food in her mouth as she thought about Maura's comment. "Fine. I'll tell you about Nevins but that's it. After that, it's all first date crap. Like where'd you go to high school, or some shit."

"Why, Jane," Maura batted her eyelashes, "I had no idea you were a romantic."

"That's me. Crazy for romance."

"Matthew?" Maura asked, still smiling.

"Right. Feds stopped him before he boarded the plane. He lawyered up right away. My guy with the Feebs said he had the lawyer on speed dial. Prepared fuck, if you ask me."

"Prudent."

"Fishy."

"I have never understood that term. Fish are neither—"

"It means it smells, Maur."

"Oh. Smells like fish?"

"Jesus." Jane couldn't stop her smile. "I'm saying when a guy insists he has an airtight alibi then tries to leave the country in the middle of a murder investigation _then_ has his attorney waiting for his call—something's not right."

"Do you think he killed Jason?"

"I don't know. The third member of the ménage-a-sex is corroborating the sex story. For now. Either they were screwing each other senseless in the hotel when Whitestone was killed or all three of them took a knife to his back. I'm not sure yet. But I know old Matty's into something. And now he's running scared. Just the way I like him. Now. That's all you get. Date talk. Shouldn't you be fawning over my hot meal by now?"

Maura quirked an eyebrow and ran her palm over the napkin in her lap, fingertips registering the stiffness of the barely-used fabric as she took a deliberate bite. "Oh, yes. Your mother uses a touch more garlic, but this is subtle and delicious. I like it."

Jane beamed. Subtle and delicious was better than burnt and awful. After tentatively chewing she realized it tasted pretty damn good. "It's not bad, actually."

Maura smiled again after washing down another taste with the chilled wine. "You had doubts?"

"Maur, I burn grilled cheese. Toast. Pop-Tarts. And that's when I'm not distracted. Of course I had doubts."

"This is delicious. And very sweet of you. I'll have to cook next time," Maura enticed with a grin, placing her wine glass back down softly.

"Well it's a good sign you're already talking about doing this again," Jane teased, glancing up to meet Maura's gaze.

When the pair locked eyes, Jane felt her pulse quicken. Her body tensed for a moment as she caught herself staring at that mouth. She wondered if she'd taste a little savory, like the veal, but then with hints of sweetness like the wine. Maura quickly looked away, but even in the low light Jane could see the flush rising up her cheeks.

"Why wouldn't I?" Maura asked, stumbling over the flare of arousal coursing through her. "Cook, I mean. For you."

Jane lifted her chin, smiling and shrugging at the doctor. She was afraid of what would come out of her mouth, if she'd accidentally tell Maura how that dress made her want to touch her, kiss her. Soft and sweet and slow.

Maura took another bite of the Osso Bucco. It was delicious; she wouldn't lie to Jane. And she was hungry, having opted for a light lunch in anticipation of such a heavy meal. But as thoughtful and tasty as the meal was, she was only registering the woman across the table from her.

"Will you make that fancy French thing with the little pieces of chicken in it?" Jane asked hopefully, swigging her beer.

"_Poulet aux Senteurs de Provence_! Of course. I know how much you like It."

Jane quivered at the French rolling seamlessly off of Maura's tongue, back once again overwhelmed by thoughts of her hands moving all over that slippery, pale skin; listening to Maura's breath hitch as she felt gentle curves slide against hers.

Maura recognized that look (it matched her own), and decided to capitalize on the opportunity for easy seduction. "What are you thinking about right now?"

"Now?" Jane was fully aware her normally husky voice had cracked on a squeak.

"Yes. Now."

"I'm, ah, thinking that your French is pretty great."

"You were thinking of my French?" Maura inclined her head and smiled that smile that told Jane the doctor was prepared to call her on her bullshit.

"Uh, sure. It's…um. It's nice."

"Nice?"

"Uh huh. Interesting."

"French is interesting?"

"Jesus, Maura, do I have to spell it out for you?"

Trapping her tongue between her teeth for a moment, Maura nodded. "I believe you should, yes. Although, I've always been an excellent speller. Did you know that if you don't learn to spell certain words and recognize patterns before age ten, you'll never really spell properly?"

Something about Maura's tone and her coy expression got through Jane's fogged brain. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I am. Absolutely."

Jane laughed but she knew, two could play this game. Leaning close to the smirking ME, Jane deliberately lowered her voice and said, "I'm thinking about how much I would like to hear you speak more French. To me. In bed," Jane cast her eyes down at her plate, barely mumbling out the last part of her desire: "Preferably naked." Before Jane could wonder if she'd gone too far, she watched Maura's eyes widen and then darken with unmistakable lust.

"Oh."

Jane leaned back a small, but deliberate inch, and smiled. She was delighted her forthright reply had flummoxed the normally unshakable doctor. "Yes, oh."

"When…Um…When?"

"Dr. Isles, are you incapable of complete sentences? I think that's a first."

"Jane," Maura demanded but the she could tell the detective's name sounded more like a plea. "When?"

"Not tonight." Jane watched disappointment cloud Maura's expression as her lips turned down in a frown. "But soon, Maur. I hope, soon."

Glancing at Jane through her lashes, Maura sighed. "I hope soon, too."

* * *

><p>Under the glow of the low-hanging moon, burning in the night sky like an ember, Callie stuffed her hands into her leather jacket. A small gust of wind picked up, shuffling some leaves across the finished wood of the porch. She stood on the front porch of the expansive Robbins abode, the chill of fall nipping at the v-neck of her t-shirt. She wished again for something nicer to wear to her in-laws' home, but unfortunately she hadn't packed for the special murder-extended stay.<p>

Beside her, Arizona took a deep breath, dimples popping as she took in the brisk aroma of a New England fall. Despite the twists and turns of this week, the weather was beautiful. Elms shedding leaves in colorful displays, the slightest dip in humidity, chilly nights, gorgeous dew-drenched mornings. It was comfortable, even familiar. This tiny moment of reverence in front of her childhood home helped calm her rattled nerves.

Callie knocked again—gently—thinking that if the elder Robbins were anything like their daughter, she could be interrupting something.  
>As soon as that thought slipped into her head she grimaced, wishing it would evaporate. Immediately.<p>

Barbara Robbins finally opened the door, saving Callie from her mental landmine, and smiled at the sight of her daughter and daughter-in-law. When she saw her daughter's arms were full, she promptly wrapped Callie up into a hug. Then, pulling back, taking the cake and depositing it in Callie's outstretched (and somewhat bewildered arms) she did the same to her daughter.

"Come in, come in. Daniel's grilling the steaks on the deck. He'll be so happy he can cheat on his low cholesterol diet with this German chocolate cake!" Barbara squealed, taking the cake and heading off toward the kitchen. "Hang up your jackets and join us. I have wine, Calliope! Good, red wine," she called from the other room.

"Thanks Mrs. Robbins," Callie smiled as Arizona eyed her knowingly. "What? Your mom and I have impeccable taste in wine."

"Right, right. Impeccable. Forgive my dad and I for enjoying beer and Jameson," Arizona smirked. She hung her coat on the rack, taking Callie's to hang over top of hers. Secretly she loved that she'd smell like her later.

Super sexy girlfriend and leather was now super sexy wife. And leather. What a nice ring.

"Goof," Callie grinned and linked arms with her wife, walking the familiar path through the dining room, kitchen and then out onto the deck.

"There are my girls," Daniel beamed as he flipped a particularly juicy looking filet mignon. "Looking well despite everything."

"Ooh, Daniel," Barbara scolded. "No talking about that at dinner. We have so many other things to talk about. Like when you're bringing our gorgeous granddaughter over for a visit? Or having more gorgeous grandbabies."

"Oh, mom," Arizona sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Callie grinned. "That's what I said! Sofia needs brothers and sisters, right grandpa?"

"This is coercion," Arizona groaned as she untangled her hand from Callie's and stalked over to the cooler, pulling out a Dog Fish Head Pumpkin.

"Coercion?" Barbra gasped theatrically and put a hand over her heart. "Are you implying that you require subterfuge to give that beautiful baby a playmate?"

Callie gratefully accepted the glass of wine Barbra passed her and smirked at her wife, "Yes, Arizona, is that what you are saying?"

Arizona ignored the question and passed a beer to her father. She saw her father staring at her placidly, obviously waiting for an answer. Lifting one eyebrow the blonde asked, "_Et tu_, Brutus?"

"I want more grandbabies," Daniel shrugged, his own set of dimples winking at his daughter.

Arizona threw up her hands and barely saved her beer when it slipped. "I never said we were done! I only asked that we wait until Sofia is, I don't know, out of diapers!"

"Ok, ok," Callie put a hand on her wife's shoulder. "We'll leave you alone." Over Arizona's head, Callie mouthed to Barbara 'Soon,' laughing when her mother-in-law giggled in delight. "Barbara, can I help with dinner?"

"Actually," Barbara beamed, "I was hoping you would make those marinated mushrooms. The ones in the red wine that go so nice with the steaks?"

"Absolutely," Callie agreed. Batting her lashes at Arizona, Callie asked, "Want to help, honey?"

Well aware she was banned from the kitchen by both her mother and her wife, Arizona rolled her eyes. "You're a bit—ah, a mean girl, Calliope. I don't know why I married you."

"I'll remind you later," Callie winked and enjoyed Barbara's laugh as they walked away.

"So," Daniel began after he and Arizona settled on the back porch, both comfortably sipping their beers while the steaks sizzled on the grill behind them, "let's get this out of the way before your mother comes back. You know how she hates drama at the dinner table."

"I do. What's up?"

"I got a letter from an attorney Samuels." Daniel reached over and passed Arizona an envelope. "Apparently I've been invited to the reading of Jason's last will and testament. I don't plan to attend but I thought Detective Rizzoli should be informed."

"Probably," Arizona agreed. "You don't want to go?"

"The only reason to invite me is if he has left me a bequest. I don't intend to be bought, even after death."

Dropping a hand on her dad's knee, Arizona nodded. "I get it, Dad. I wish you had told me. About Timothy. I wish—"

"You didn't need that burden, Arizona. Sofia had just been born, Calliope was hurt. Jason Whitestone was the last thing you needed to deal with."

"I get it, Dad," she repeated. "I do. I'm just sorry you were on your own with all of that. It must have felt like losing Tim all over again."

"It did," Daniel nodded, swigging his beer to cover the crack in his voice before clearing his throat and changing the subject. "You'll pass this along to the detective?"

"Ah. Yeah, sure, I can do that."

The Colonel patted Arizona's hand on his leg and sat back. "Now. Tell me about Sofia. Have you bought her a pony yet? My granddaughter deserves a pony, Arizona."

"A pony, dad?" Arizona groaned. "If you buy my daughter a pony, I will park it in your front lawn. All sixteen square inches of grass you have out front. You should see what Sof has as is. I think we should buy stock in Playskool and Baby Einstein. She does not need a pony. A Ferrari for your favorite daughter, on the other hand..."

Daniel laughed, enjoying the ribbing from his girl. "Calliope asked for a Mustang. Or a Lamborghini.

Arizona smirked, tipping the beer back into her mouth and adjusting the sleeves on the hoodie she was wearing. "Of course she did."

"Danny, how are the steaks? We're all set up in here," Barbara called from the behind the sliding glass door.

"Almost finished, Barb!" Daniel replied, glancing toward Arizona as he began placing the steaks onto a platter. "You will inform Detective Rizzoli of this soon? I'd like her to have any advantage possible. I like her. She seems very driven."

"Maura likes her too," Arizona teased, a little flushed from the beer. "A lot."

"Maura and the detective?" He considered the idea, a soft smile spreading across his face after a moment's hesitation. "I think I like that. They seemed surprisingly in tune with one another. Ah, I hope you'll let me know if there's a wedding."

"You do love weddings."

"It's the finger foods. And the dancing. Where do you think your brother learned all of his best moves?" Daniel winked, enjoying the laugh that doubled his daughter over.

Turning off the grill and gesturing for Arizona to go first, the pair made their way into the kitchen. Callie and Barbara were giggling—Callie pouring her mother-in-law another glass of wine while shimmying her hips a little. Arizona's heart leapt to her throat at the sight of candid Calliope. The familiarity of the feeling did nothing to diminish its value. Glancing over at her father, who wore the same love-struck expression she felt herself, she wrapped her arm around his shoulder. "How'd we get so lucky, huh?"

He laughed, realizing he'd been caught in a moment of vulnerability. "Come on you giggling two, it's time for dinner."

"Oh, Danny. Callie's going to teach me how to dance. Really dance. Then you and I can finally go to Salsa nights at the American Legion."

Arizona snorted some, coughing up the beer that had threatened to choke her. "Callie's uh..."

In one fell swoop Callie was beside her wife, arm around her waist, stealing her beer for a sip, and twirling her in a dramatic dance, all at the same time. "Callie's what? Amazing? Graceful? The best thing that's ever happened to you?" She teased, pressing a kiss to her wife's cheek.

"A great dancer," Arizona settled on. "But a little of all of the rest of those, too."

Barbara smiled at the scene, still tickled that her daughter was so obviously in love. "Let's all sit please, the food is going to get cold."

Leaning over to whisper to his wife, Daniel added, "I would love to dance with you, Barbara. Any day of the week."

Arizona and Callie giggled, poking and pinching each other like a couple of teens, warranting a soft, yet stern: "Girls, it's time for grace" from Daniel.

"Yes, sir," they responded in unison.

* * *

><p>Jane gasped when Maura pushed her backwards on the couch, stumbling slightly as the ME straddled her thighs and ran a warm, wet tongue over her trembling lips.<p>

"Maura."

"Jane"

"No, ah, Maura," Jane leaned back into the couch and held her hands up in the air. "I, ah, I don't know what to do."

Maura smiled softly and moved back into Jane, pressing a kiss at the corner of the detective's mouth and thrilling to the feel of Jane's shuddering breath washing over her. "You're doing just fine," she murmured.

"No. My hands," Jane waved them in the air on either side of Maura's head, her gesticulations so wild, Maura felt a breeze sift through her hair. "I don't know what to do with my hands."

Maura couldn't help herself; she giggled. Out loud. Once the laughter started, she was unable to pull it back. She gave in to her humor and buried her face in Jane's neck, giggles migrating to full blown chuckles.

"Nice, Maur. Real nice." Jane dropped her hands to the couch and waited for the Maura's laughter to subside. "I told you I'd suck at this!"

"Jane," Maura snickered against Jane's neck before nipping lightly at the brunette's collarbone and surprising her into a yelp. "You do not suck. "Although," she traced her lips up Jane's neck and whispered in her ear, "I sincerely hope you will. Eventually."

"Christ."

"Maura," the doctor corrected, leaning back to smile at her date. "I'm only Maura."

"Smartass."

"I am quite smart and my ass—"

"Hands, Maura," Jane reminded her, once again waving them in the air. "Where do they go?"

"Oh, Jane," Maura laughed again. "Would you ask a man where you should put your hands?"

"Well…" Jane trailed off and considered the question. "Shit. I guess not."

"You would not," Maura agreed. "If I were a man, where would you put your hands?"

"Ah. Wherever I wanted, I guess."

Maura shivered involuntarily, even as she nodded. "Yes. That. Do that. Where, ah, where do you want to put them?"

"Honestly?"

"Of course," Maura nodded.

"Everywhere."

More shivers.

Maura leaned forward and breathed against Jane's lips. "Yes."

"It scares the shit out of me, Maura."

Pulling back again, Maura smiled softly. "I know it does. I'm surprisingly frightened myself. But I still want your hands on me, Jane."

"Um. Can we, uh, over the clothes? Jesus, I feel like a teenager trying to get to second base."

Cocking her head to the side, Maura frowned. "Second base? I…I don't understand. Was your first sexual experience with a baseball player?"

Jane burst out laughing and dropped her forehead against Maura's. "You are…perfect," Jane decided, lifting her hands and wrapping them around Maura's behind, squeezing lightly through the material of her dress. "And my hands are exactly where I want them."

Maura grinned, a sumptuous thing that started off small but stretched across her face. It was sincere, a hint of mischief tweaking at the corner as she lowered herself back down onto Jane's body. Those hands felt so good against her backside that she let off a moan of appreciation just shy of Jane's lips.

"Oh, God," Jane groaned at the sound. "I love hearing that."

Maura only grinned again before pressing her lips gently against Jane's. It was hard to rein in the desire she had for this woman. It ached, physically ached, having to slow it down. Having to keep her hands over polyblend cotton instead of underneath, swirling over sexy, soft skin. Touching everything. Listening to Jane gasp for her, to let her name spill from her lips like a prayer.

Jane's hands slid from Maura's ass to her lower back, wrapping around her hips and ghosting along lithe curves. She tentatively palmed her breasts, fingertips trailing along the outer swells of them. At the touch, Maura's back arched inward, pressing herself more flush against Jane's torso.

"Jane," Maura breathed softly, groaning when long fingers spread to cup her breasts fully.

"What? You okay?" Jane asked, bewildered as she pulled away.

Maura was blushing, her eyes lidded, mouth parted slightly. Jane's fingertips itched to touch her again, but she could sense Maura's hesitation and held back. "I'm okay, Jane. It's hard to...slow this all down. Just kiss me, please."

Smirking slightly, Jane poured her full effort into the kiss. She traced the shape of Maura's bottom lip with her tongue, tasting the hint of wine that stained her lips. When her mouth trembled open on a sigh, Jane dipped inside, tangling her tongue with Maura's softly. The doctor whimpered and her hands twisted in Jane's shirt, lifting it slightly but never touching the skin she revealed. Jane pulled back and glanced down at Maura's hands.

"Maybe we should…"

"Stop?" Maura asked, loosening her fists over Jane's torso.

"Um. Yeah, maybe. If we're going to go slow."

"I dislike slow," Maura pouted. "I prefer a faster pace."

"Did you really just say that?"

"What?"

"It takes you three days to identify reddish brown stains as blood. When you find them _under a dead body_, Maura! You love slow."

"Not tonight. Tonight I detest slow."

"Me too," Jane admitted, smiling ruefully. "Maybe we could, ah, spend the evening together again tomorrow? Speed things up a little then?"

Maura smiled and cuddled up against Jane in a hug that was as sweet as their interlude had been sexy. "Yes, please," she sighed against Jane's neck. "I'd love that."


	7. Chapter 7

**Something Old, Something New (Chapter 7 of ?)**

**Authors: ****roughian**** and ****foreverleyton**

**Fandom: Crossover: Rizzoli and Isles/Callie and Arizona**

**Rating: NC-17,** overall. R, for this chapter. What, you wanted NC-17? It's Thanksgiving, guys, not Christmas! ;)

**Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected: Callie meets Arizona's favorite ex; Maura's got an itch Jane wants to scratch. Oh, and there's a murder, too.**

**A/N: **Another apology for the crazy delay. Personal lives got in the way and we're hoping you are all still around. Sorry! We still love you guys!

While we're on the subject, ForeverLeyton would like to offer another apology: to any who are waiting for an update to my Thanksgiving fic, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, it's coming. I promise. I may not make my self-imposed Thanksgiving deadline (serious pie baking interfered!) but it'll be soon.

**Chapter 7 Summary: **Jane discovers it's tough to keep secrets from cops and that makes her nervous, much to Maura's dismay. Meanwhile, the Whitestone case has stalled but Colonel Robbins may be able to help the investigation.

* * *

><p>Jane sat at the breakfast bar, smirking at the cup of coffee in front of her. At first she wanted to wait for it to cool off, but she had long since abandoned that notion in favor of daydreaming. She felt like a giddy, 13-year-old boy who had just made out with his first girl. But damn, if the ME didn't make her feel that way.<p>

The woman in question swept into the room, smiling at Jane as she daintily selected an I 3 BPD mug from the cabinet, fishing through the little box of store bought tea-bags Jane kept for her. Jane was used to looking the other way, pretending she wasn't staring at whatever perfect ensemble Maura was wearing but now she grinned toothily at the three piece suit of obvious silk before finally sipping from her lukewarm cup of coffee.

Maura wrinkled her nose after she'd set the small teakettle on the burner to boil. "I was hoping you hadn't drank that yet."

"What? What do you mean? It's 7:13 in the morning. I'm up, showered, and dressed instead of fighting with my alarm clock. I need the caffeine."

Maura walked over to Jane, her gait slow, but still sexy as she took the mug from the detective's hands and set it down on the breakfast bar. "II was just thinking in terms of morning kisses. And favorable flavors."

Jane snorted out a laugh. "Dr. Isles, I had no idea you were this cheesy."

Affronted, Maura took a step back, opening her mouth to protest but Jane tugged her back in to give her the morning kiss she wanted.

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" Jane winked.

Maura wiped at the corner of her mouth, smirking at the woman before her. "Not bad at all, but I'll need to try again to make my final decision."

Jane was delighted, and mildly surprised, by the outwardly affectionate nature of Maura, enjoying the way the demure doc settled herself between her knees and rested a hand on either thigh while she kissed her again, hands tangling in damp curls. The detective's hands slipped to the ME's waist, coasting along gorgeous curvature hiding beneath the suit's jacket, seeking the secrets her hands had only begun to learn. Had the teakettle not suddenly screamed for attention, who knows how far those hands would have gone.

With Maura dealing with her teakettle (and Jane unabashedly appreciating her firm ass and tight calves accentuated by some hoity-toity designer shoes) neither woman registered the ringing of their cell phones immediately. Jane caught the sound first, followed by Maura, and the pair gave their respective "Rizzoli" and "Isles" before giving each other a look that suggested their perfect morning bubble had just been burst by homicide.

"Murder-suicide in Langdon Park?" Maura asked, ending her call and lifting her tea mug in salute.

Jane nodded slowly. "Cheers?"

* * *

><p>Jane felt ridiculous climbing into the Crown Victoria in her parking garage while Maura trudged across the street to her fancy hybrid, electric, whatever-the-hippies–were-calling-it car. They were coming from the same place, headed to the same spot. Would likely travel the exact same route. Jane was no environmentalist but two cars seemed inefficient.<p>

She had suggested as much to Maura while they rode the elevator together but the doctor, ever hyper-logical, had calmly reminded Jane that they both had other cases, cases that did not involve the other. Cases that may require one or the other to have access to her own car. She was right, of course. Maura Isles was rarely wrong. But still Jane felt foolish. Annoyed._ Pouty_, though she'd never admit to such a girlish emotion.

She missed it had barely been fifteen minutes since she had seen her last.

Ridiculous.

Sighing, Jane pulled into a parking spot half a block from the crime scene, just far enough away to avoid the traffic that always seemed to surround domestic disputes. Moving towards the crowd, Jane spun on her heel when she heard a shout from behind her car.

"Hey, cop bitch! Ya ride's blockin' my shit."

"Shittin' on the street's not legal, pal. You wanna talk 'bout your bathroom habits at Central?" Jane sneered at the hot dog vendor whose cart was fixed immediately behind her (less than legal) parking spot.

"Man, come on. How people supposed to buy my wares when you got a cop car blocking my shit?"

Jane didn't have an answer so she fell back on her standard. Ducking under the yellow crime scene tape, she turned again and flipped her new friend the bird. Snorting, enjoying the interlude in her morning, Jane sneered at Detective Crowe. "Hey."

"You got a real way with community relations, Rizzoli."

"Yeah, I'm a regular civil servant." Jane pulled up her sunglasses and couldn't stop the involuntary grin she knew stretched across her face when she spotted Dr. Isles, slipping beneath the tape, careful to avoid messing her hair. She realized Crowe noticed her smile, too, when she heard his delighted laugh. An asshole like Crowe was only delighted when he found a way to screw someone else. "What?" She asked, already dreading the answer.

"Oh, nothing. Just I figured out why you're such a bitch."

_Walking into it, Jane. _"Oh?" _Yep, glutton for punishment._

"Can't get someone with a real dick to get you off, can you? Playing with plastic now, Rizzoli?"

Jane couldn't help it. Her jaw dropped and she knew her eyes bugged hard enough to resemble a cartoon character just before he realized he was falling. When Maura stepped next to her, coyly brushing her fingertips over Jane's hand, Jane jumped like she'd been scalded. Crowe laughed, damn him, and Jane shoved him, hard. For the first time since they'd met, she ignored Maura when she called and stomped into the house.

Confused, the medical examiner glanced at the smirking detective, not needing her advanced deductive reasoning to realize that he'd royally pissed Jane off. Standing there, awkwardly glancing between Crowe and the house, Maura turned her head in time to see Frost quickly approaching, peeling sunglasses off of his face.

"What do we got?" he asked Crowe and Maura.

"Murder suicide. Messy as hell in there," Crowe grumbled. "Looks like the boyfriend killed the girlfriend with a steak knife. Slit her throat."

"Really? Any priors on the boyfriend?"

"Charges for petty theft and an aggravated assault charge that got lessened because of it being in self defense, but nothing like that. Girl musta pissed him off pretty bad to warrant that," Crowe cocked a half grin.

Maura, disgusted by the brash detective, sighed and pushed past the pair to make it into the house. The fetid smell of death crept into her nose. It was cloying at first, but soon she was used to the pungent aroma. "Jane?" she called.

"In here," Jane answered, standing in the doorway, staring at the mess in the living room. Her eyes swept the room: take out menus scattered on the coffee table; remote control settled on the edge of the couch; the Tuesday paper; an empty bowl that looked suspiciously like it had once housed ice cream.

It looked no different than any other living room in America. The blight that stained the middle of the otherwise normal scene made Jane's stomach turn.

"Oh," Maura murmured as she surveyed the scene; the body already pallid and stained with dried blood. "Detective Crowe mentioned he'd slit her throat."

Jane sighed, nodding as she knelt beside the woman's body. "She bled out. And the boyfriend's brains are all over the ceiling. CSRU should be here any second."

Maura glanced at Jane whose brows were knitted together as she stared in front of her. The detective wasn't looking at the body, wasn't inspecting the blood spray on the wall or dappling the curtains. She was staring absently, her eyes unfocused and bleak.

"Jane, are you okay? Would you like to step outside? You look a little pale. This is simple, I can handle it."

Jane stood up again, looking at Maura as a surge of something shot through her. Guilt? Passion? Anger? Love? She wasn't sure. But the weight of the stale air and the bloody _everything _suddenly seemed crushing. She had to get out of this room.

Without another word, she turned and marched outside. Taking in a harsh lungful of fresh air, Jane bent forward, her hands on her knees. The pavement swirled in front of her and she blinked rapidly in an attempt to maintain equilibrium. _She would not pass out_. Frost jogged over to her, sensing distress.

"Hey," he murmured. "You okay?" He didn't comment when Jane automatically shrugged off the hand he laid on her shoulder.

"Yeah, just..."

"Is it that bad in there, Rizzoli? As bad as the DiMarco massacre?" Frost gagged at the memory, barely recovering.

"Not even close. I—," Jane straightened, watching Crowe slap the shoulder of a Boston police officer. She squinted—_Campbell, with Domestics_. Another jerk.

Frost followed her gaze and narrowed his eyes. "Don't let Crowe get under your skin. It's a waste of a day," he continued. "Maura still in there?"

Jane flinched at the sound of the woman's name, instantly flagging Frost's intuition. "Oh," he nodded. "This about her?"

"Frost," Jane warned.

"Rizzoli, I know I'm young and I know you and Korsak like to bust my balls about... well, about everything. But I'm not an idiot. Far from it. Plus, I'm a detective. Got the badge and everything," he joked, flashing his badge at Jane. "I know what I saw when I walked in on you two. And I see the doc, I see how she looks at you. I see how you watch her."

"It's...complicated."

"I bet. You don't have to talk about it. And I'm sure as hell not about to spread it around BPD. These dudes are like hens. I don't even get it," he shook his head, laughing, which made Jane laugh too.

"Thanks, Frost," she clapped him on the shoulder, cop speak for gratitude.

"Don't mention it," he said, pulling out his notebook and flipping through. "So, dispatch said this was a murder-suicide. We need anything other than CSRU and a couple autopsies?"

Jane blinked, work pulling her back to earth and reality. She needed to get a grip. This was her job. "Yeah, that's about it. Looks pretty open and shut. Hey, any news on the Whitestone case?"

"Same old shit," Frost scratched the back of his head. "I feel like there's bank accounts comin' outta the wood work for this dude. And then they lead to nowhere."

Jane nodded, hearing the screeching brakes of CSRU's van behind her. She turned in time to see the familiar faces of McMiller and Farrior. "Well, then I'm gonna head back to the station and see if I can piece some of that same old shit together. Cool?"

"Yeah, I got it. Oh, and I'll let Maura know. I'm sure she's in the dead-body trance by now."

"Probably," she laughed lightly, glancing back at the house where she knew she had left the doctor a little confused. _Dammit. _"Tell her…Tell her I'll see her back at the shop?"

"Done."

* * *

><p>Jane took the long way back to the station, tooling around Boston without paying attention to where she went. She felt on the cusp of something, something big. Maybe too big. She didn't like the disgruntled feeling that had settled in her gut. For a woman like her, one who chose a path and attacked it with purpose and determination, this tug of war she was playing with Maura was driving her crazy.<p>

Realizing with a start that she was about to turn onto the Massachusetts Parkway, Jane slammed a frustrated hand against the steering wheel. She needed to pull it together. She needed to stop thinking about Crowe's comment and it's possible repercussions. Or how sexy Maura looked grinning over her cup of tea this morning. Or, dear God, how the hell she was supposed to tell her mother that she liked girls now. A girl. One girl. Son of a bitch. Flipping open her cell, she punched in the number she knew would distract her.

"Vincent Korsak, BPD."

"Anyone besides your mother call ya' Vincent?"

"My mother's dead, God rest her soul. And she called me Vinny."

"Aw, Vinny, that's so sweet."

"You calling for a reason,_ Janey_, or just to talk ill about my departed mother?"

"I'm trying to find an angle on the Whitestone case but shit's dancing around my mind like you at Spinnelli's bachelor party after the tequila shots."

"Yeah, that was a good time," Vince reminisced fondly, rewarded when he heard Jane snort out a laugh.

"Uh huh, for you maybe. My eyes still haven't recovered. Anyway, I'm driving back, stuck in traffic. Figured you could run through the case with me, talk it out. Got anything new?"

"Couple things, but nothing's clicking."

"Like?"

"Well, Frosty's got accounts jumping all over his computer screen. I don't understand most of that but the damn thing keeps beeping every five minutes. It's got to be the money, Jane. That's the only thing that makes sense."

"I hear ya, and I like the money motive as much as every other poorly-paid public servant. But it's not getting us anywhere. We try to chase the money, we get more than a hundred suspects. How do we narrow it down?"

She could hear scratching through the speaker and knew instinctively Vince was tugging on his ear against the phone. "Maybe we don't narrow it down. Maybe we gotta, like, broaden it out."

"Broaden it out? Huh?"

"That Marine colonel, the one who punched Whitestone?"

"Colonel Robbins, yeah. Look, Vince, it's not him. My gut—"

"No, not saying it's him. I'm saying he called, right, said there's a will reading tonight? I think we wire him."

"You want to wire a-a _grandfather_ for a will reading?"

"We don't have enough to get in otherwise. No judge'll give us permission with the shit we got."

"Ok. Maybe. But, Vince, why?"

"I reread the autopsy report. Money's a motive, I know it. But I don't think it's the only one. This guy was killed bad, Jane. Real bad. Ugly. That smells personal."

"Agreed, but personal takes us away from the money angle." Jane ran a firm palm over the back of her neck, working out the kinks annoyance created. "You're running in circles, Korsak."

"I don't think so, kid. Where do you get personal and money, all at the same time?"

"I…the will," Jane sighed, understanding. She unconsciously tapped out the beat to _Mo Money, Mo Problems_ while she considered Vince's idea.

"Bingo. Vultures, Jane. They pick off what's left, right?"

"You tell me, Mr. Discovery Channel."

"They do. Whitestone, or rather his money, was as good as dead, right? A carcass. The SEC, they were gonna fry his sorry ass. This smells like a vulture killing to me. Trying to get what's left of the scraps."

"Kill out of rage, that's the personal. Angle your way into the will, that's the money. Good thinking, Vince. I'll call Arizo—ah, the Colonel, set it up. Give him an idea of the players."

"Tell him to sit by the wife, they're all vultures. I wanna see what she gets outta the bastard, how she feels about that."

"You still like her for this?"

"Maybe. Don't know. I know you don't. But the doc said the stab wounds came from so many angles that there was a possibility of more than one killer. So far, our best suspects are Carolyn and Nevins but they alibi each other out, right? So what if they both did it?"

"I thought of that Vince, but you're forgetting the kinky hotel sex with Romanoff, the third wheel in their three seater."

"I'm not. I'm thinking he's in on it too. Frost ran a search of his financials and get this—guy took out a third mortgage on his home, trying to hit it rich on the stock market. Three guesses where he put the money?"

"Whitestone."

"Ding, ding. Got it in one."

"Ok, so he's got motive too. You trying to tell me three people stabbed this guy in an alley outside a wedding?"

"It's not that crazy, Rizzoli. Maura says—"

And that was the last thing Jane heard. One mention of the ME's name and Jane's mind fogged completely. Like flipping a switch. Cursing at the images dancing in her brain, Jane slammed the steering wheel for the second time that day.

"Jane? Jane, you listening to me?"

"Shit, Vince. Sorry. I, ah, zoned out a minute."

"Uh huh. Happening a lot lately," he mused. "You got something going with the doc, Rizzoli?"he asked bluntly.

Jane sputtered, coughing into the phone at the unexpected and out-of-nowhere question. "What? Huh? Excuse me? What, ah, why?"

"Look, it's none of my business but lately someone says the doc's name and you go kinda spacey and..._girly_."

"Girly?" Jane demanded, offended.

"Yeah, you know. Like a teenager with a crush. Or somethin'. And I hear things—"

"You hanging out with the gossip girls these days, Korsak?" Jane knew her tone was harsher than the moment warranted but she couldn't help it. _What had Korsak heard? _

"I got ears, kid. Don't have to listen very hard to hear things. Look, I'm not sayin' there's something to say. I'm just saying, if there were something to say about...the doc and you and _stuff_ I like it. I'm...on board. Or whatever."

Jane flipped her turn signal and made a sharp left onto Beeler Avenue, nearly plowing into the Ford Fusion in the other lane. "What? You sound crazy. Are you watching The L Word with Donna from booking again, Korsak? What'd I tell you about that?" she finished through her teeth.

"It's a quality program, Jane. Drama, romance, angst."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that about television lesbians," Jane sighed. "And for your information, this isn't some pilot episode of two girls in love. Maura's... I respect her."

"Uh huh."

"She's really smart. Like, really. How many times has she helped us out on cases that seemed dead?" Jane urged, screeching to a halt as the yellow light she was rapidly approaching turned red.

"You don't have to defend the doc to me, Rizzoli. I'm just sayin', you got more than respect for Maura Isles," Korsak continued, determined to get an answer out of her.

"Well," Jane stopped, pulling in front of the station and killing the engine. Maybe she could talk to Korsak. He had trained her, looked out for her. Had her back. "I…we—"

"Shit, Jane, hang on, Frost's computer just went crazy. Lemme call you back."

So much for that.

Jane didn't wait to hang up the phone, tossing it into the front seat as she leaned her head against the steering wheel. Her eyes closed, the only thing she thought of was Maura. Great, Schoolgirl crush, indeed.

* * *

><p>Colonel Robbins paced the length of his daughter's hotel room, shaking the rocks glass of scotch that Callie poured him from the mini bar. His face, usually stoic and hard to read, was furrowed in a scowl. Had Arizona been on the receiving end of said face, she might have felt a little bit more intimidated and a lot less frustrated. Or, at least, less willing to let her frustration show.<p>

"Dad, you'll have to say something. Preferably before you wear a hole in the carpeting," Arizona said lightly, reaching over for Callie's hand and squeezing it some.

The brunette squeezed back, sipping from her own glass of scotch. There wasn't much they could do except eat overpriced room service and raid the mini bar. This was going to be one expensive "weekend getaway."

"I spoke with a detective with the Boston Police Department this morning," he began, sipping again. The scotch was cheap and burned a little, so he grimaced. "You know, I believe he said he was a Sergeant. Vincent, ah, Korsak? Regardless," he shrugged. "I informed him of the will reading and my invitation. Detective Rizzoli called me back this afternoon. She's asked me to attend, asked if I would permit her to set me up with a wire."

Callie nodded in encouragement, knowing that Daniel was lost in his own thoughts. Still she knew how much he would appreciate aiding the investigation. "Well, that might be helpful. To the case."

"Perhaps," he shrugged, downing a larger sip.

"Dad? Is that all?"

"Detective Rizzoli- Jane. She wanted to give me a run down, let me know what to be on the lookout for." When the girls nodded their understanding, he continued. "She told me Jason had a child that he… that he abandoned. One who was forced to withdraw from college to tend to her dying mother? What kind of monster abandons a child like that? If one cannot provide the necessary emotional support, how dare he not offer financial help?" he scowled even deeper. "Perhaps I never knew him at all," he murmured quietly.

Arizona realized Jason's continued betrayal had cut her father deeply, affecting him nearly as much as the news of this young girl's troubles.

Callie looked into her drink, thinking about her own child for a second. "That's terrible. I can't imagine."

"If I had known…If he had told me, _once_ confided, I would have…he had to know I would have…well, I guess that's done."

"But it's not done, is it, Dad?" Arizona knew her father well. "You want to help her."

"I've got to see what that girl needs, Arizona. Offer her something. At least set her up with people that can help her financially, help her mother. The medical expenses alone!" he resumed pacing, shaking his head vigorously.

"Dad, take a deep breath. I'm sure that Jason's daughter would appreciate the help, but let's take it one step at a time. Do you expect her to attend tonight?"

This stopped Daniel, practically in his tracks. "I…I don't know," he admitted. "I hadn't considered the possibility. Do you think?"

Arizona shrugged. "Maybe. What time is the reading again?"

The Colonel checked his watch. "17:30, this evening. Approximately three hours from now."

Arizona grimaced again, wishing all of this would somehow just evaporate. "Did you agree to the wire?"

Daniel nodded. "Of course I did, Arizona. I've agreed to meet with Jane an hour before the reading so that she can outfit me." He chuckled softly. "Though this won't be my first wire, it will be the first at a will reading."

"You've worn a wire before?" Arizona asked curiously, instantly distracted.

Callie rolled her eyes at her wife and waved her question off. "Do you want us to come with you, Daniel?" She offered.

"No, no. This is best suited for me alone," the Colonel lifted his glass towards his daughter-in-law. "But thank you."

"Are you sure, Dad? We don't mind. Besides, we're cooped up in this room half the day, bored. It's a little frustrating," Arizona added.

Noting the sincerity in his daughter's eyes, Daniel glanced at his watch again. "It might be nice, actually. To have a familiar face nearby. Let me call Jane and make sure it's acceptable that the two of you join me. If she advises against it, I'm afraid it's out of my hands."

"Of course," Arizona agreed.

"Excuse me. I'm going to try her now. I'll just be a few moments," Daniel promised as he set his empty glass down on the table, moving towards the bedroom. "Yes, hi. Detective Rizzoli, please?"

His voice grew muffled as he closed the door, and Callie could barely make out if he was talking or if it was the hum of the icemaker in the hall. "A will reading, huh?"

Arizona sighed, shoulders slumping forward. "Not exactly vacation activity, I know. I don't want him to have to go alone. Especially after learning about Jason using Tim's name."

Callie scooted closer, setting her scotch on the end table next to the couch. She rubbed Arizona's back in soothing circles. "He appreciates it, I'm sure. You know he's going to search out this daughter. If we weren't there, he'd probably have him moving into your parents' home by the night's end."

"Maybe," Arizona laughed. "This whole thing has him disturbed. He's not normally a sucker but he needs to—"

"Fix things. I know," Callie interrupted. When Arizona nodded she shrugged, "I married a Robbins. I get it."

Arizona laughed and leaned into her wife. "True. He'll fix what he can, since he can't fix this."

"He will. But we'll be there, make sure he doesn't give away family farm before he learns this girl's name. If she's even there," Callie mused. "I don't really know who gets invited to these sorts of things. Have you ever been to one?"

"A will reading? No, never. Never knew anyone wealthy enough to warrant a reading. You?"

"Nope," Callie shook her head. "Torres money is new money," she joked. "But I used to watch _Days of Our Lives_ and they had them all the time. Dramatic stuff. Might be interesting."

Arizona leaned back and arched one eyebrow at her wife. _She is a constant surprise_. "_Days_, Callie? Really?"

Callie didn't bother to look sheepish as she grinned. "Come on! You know you watched some crappy daytime tv during med school."

"Um, no. Some of us were studying," Arizona pointed out haughtily before, under her breath, she coughed, "General Hospital."

"I knew it!" Callie exclaimed triumphantly.

"Knew what?" Daniel asked, stepping back into the room.

Out of the corner of her eye, Callie caught Arizona's 'don't you dare' look. "Uh. Knew that... Arizona studied during med school instead of watching _stories_ on tv."

"'Course she did," the Colonel puffed. "Daytime television is nothing but trash. Arizona knows that."

"Uh huh...I mean, yes, sir," Callie agreed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes when Arizona straightened smugly beside her. "Anyway, what did Detective McHottie say?"

"Detective McHottie?" Daniel drawled, his voice a perfect replica of his daughter's.

"Oh!" Now Callie did roll her eyes. Clearly Seattle Grace's annoying habit of nicknaming everyone was contagious. "Sorry. Jane. Detective Rizzoli. What did she say?"

Daniel shared a secret smile with his daughter, both amused by Callie's squirming. "Actually, Jane thought you both should attend. Felt it might appear strange if I didn't bring you, given your recent involvement in...everything."

"Good," Arizona nodded, rising to refill her father's drink. "That's settled. I wonder if Maura will be there," she mused.

"Missing your girlfriend?" Callie teased, winking at Arizona's father.

"Ha, ha. No, but I enjoy seeing Maura. Besides, watching she and Jane try to figure out this thing they've got going, it's fun."

"It is fun," Callie agreed. "Awkward, uncomfortable, nervous. I don't miss those days at all."

Returning to sit next to her wife, Arizona squeezed her knee and agreed, "Me either."

* * *

><p>Maura sighed and took one last look at the pristine stack of paper work on her desk. It had been a trying several hours, made even more exhausting by the mountains of reports the murder-suicide required.<p>

Cases had stopped giving her a nauseated twist in her stomach long ago, but this one seemed to reawaken those feelings. She chalked it up to Crowe's comments about the victim, instead of the blood bath. His suggestion that a young girl could do something to warrant such violence disgusted her.

The churning in her gut was certainly not related to Jane and any intuition that something was wrong with the detective, personally. No, Maura Isles didn't believe in intuition.

She laughed lightly at her own thoughts and closed another file, pushing out from her desk with the intent of making a cup of tea in the break room. As she glanced out into the main corridor of her office, she heard the brisk gait of her favorite homicide detective approaching. Smiling instinctively, Maura straightened her skirt and started walking toward the sound.

Expecting Jane to be as eager as she, the wind was abruptly taken out of Maura's sails when the stoic detective stopped a yard shy of the ME, holding out another file. "S'more on the case," she said as Maura took the file and began leafing through it.

Jane turned on her heels, starting to walk away. Maura furrowed her brows, closing the file and setting it atop an empty cabinet.

"Jane?" Maura asked, hurrying after her. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, Maura," Jane snipped, then sighed realizing her tone was harsh. "Sorry. Long day."

"It has been," Maura agreed, studying the furrowed lines of Jane's brow as she placed a hand on her shoulder.

Jane recoiled from the touch, feeling the surge of emotion hit her square in the chest. She wanted to buckle over, feeling similarly to the crime scene earlier.

"Hey," Maura said softly. "Come on, sit down. Have you eaten today?" The doctor asked, ushering Jane into a stiff plastic chair. "Or had enough water?"

"I ate, and had some coffee," Jane waved Maura off. Truth was she probably hadn't eaten, because when Jane was nervous she didn't eat. The gnawing anxiety in her gut masked any hunger.

"Would you like me to ask your mother to make you a smoothie in the cafe?" Maura asked as she doted, crouching down to look in Jane's eyes.

"No, stop!" Jane demanded again. "I'm fine. I don't need a damn smoothie!"

Maura reared her head backwards, standing up straight. "Okay."

Jane sighed and slumped backwards, rubbing a hand over her face. "This is just... Maura, I don't know what the hell I'm doin'."

"With the case, or—"

"With us. What is this?" Jane shook a little as she spoke, looking up into the eyes of the woman she knew she was hurting. She couldn't stop herself.

"It's us, Jane. It's always been us," Maura answered softly, eyeing the entryway in case one of the interns scurried by the door.

Jane's heart sloshed even more wildly. _Always us. _It might have been a comforting thought, but right now her panic was overriding anything else.

"What's us? I—" Jane breathed again, deeply. "I don't understand. Crowe, today... Crowe. I mean is that how it's going to be? The butt of everyone's jokes? The big 'ha-ha, Jane and Maura. Playing with plastics.'"

Maura's eyes widened. "Oh, Jane. He didn't?"

"He did, right before you got there. He figured it out. How? Do I give off a gay vibe?" Jane fretted.

Maura bit back a laugh at Jane's instinctive phobia of being labeled as the butchy stereotypical female cop. It was a label that had chased most of her career. "Gay vibe?" Maura asked. "I think you're graceful. Stunning. Womanly. Elegant—"

"This isn't the ballet, Maura! I'm serious!" Jane croaked.

Maura shook her head, casting one more glance toward the door as she leaned down to press a kiss to Jane's forehead. Pulling back some, she whispered, "So am I."

Jane sighed, grabbing Maura by her wrist and pulled her into her lap. She wanted to kiss her. Because everything else fell away when Maura kissed her.

Jane refused to let Crowe interfere here, and slipped into the comfortable rhythm of kissing Maura, hands settling on her back while the doctor's nimble fingers gripped at the collar of her shirt. Jane shivered at the feeling, pulling Maura closer. Something about Maura was comforting despite the fears metastasizing inside of her. Just not comforting enough.

Pushing on Maura's shoulders, Jane shook her head rapidly. "I can't. We can't. At work. No."

Maura slipped off of Jane's lap as quickly as she'd climbed into it. "At work may be inappropriate."

"It's not even that, Maur. Or, not only."

Maura busied herself shuffling instruments around her table. She could feel the strain on her ocular muscles that meant tears were threatening. She knew how much the Jane would hate that and how quickly crying would send her stalwart detective running even further away. "I'm sorry, Jane. I'm afraid I'm not completely following you. What do you mean 'or not only?'"

Jane sighed. No matter how hard the doctor tried to hide it, Jane knew the formality of speech and the barely-perceptible crack in Maura's voice meant she was on the verge of tears. Exactly what Jane had hoped to avoid.

"I don't know if I'm ready for..._this_," she gestured with her hand, encompassing the space between the two women.

"You've said that."

"Right." Jane dropped her head. "I can't...at work and..out—" she pointed behind her gesturing towards the door, "—out there. In the world. I can't be _this _in the world. Not yet. I'm not...I'm not there yet, Maura. I'm sorry."

Maura squeezed a hand around a skull key, hoping the pressure against her palm would alleviate the tension in her body. "Are you breaking—are you ending this?" Damn the quiver she couldn't control_._

"No," Jane rushed to answer. Standing up, she took a step closer to Maura but didn't close the distance completely. "No. I'm not. God, I don't want to be. I hope I'm not. But can it be us, just us, for a while? Would that be ok?"

Gathering her courage, Maura finally lifted her gaze to meet the detective's. She searched Jane's eyes for a long while, wishing she were one of those people who could see more than retinas and irises. But she was an expert at the body's response to internal and external stimuli and watching Jane, she saw a woman teetering on an edge, unsure whether to resist the fall or take a leap. Maura decided to give her nudge.

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, that's ok. This is new. And special, to me—"

"Me too," Jane hurriedly agreed.

"Good. We can be...private," she decided, deliberately avoiding the word 'secret.' "We can be, for now, whatever you need us to be." When Jane's shoulders sagged in relief, her entire body relaxing, Maura felt the need to lift a finger. A single finger, pushing her closer to that ledge. "But not forever, Jane. I won't keep what's inside me, for you, a secret forever."

Jane nodded slowly, recognizing the resolve in Maura's eyes, even Maura herself would have scoffed at the notion. "Fair enough," she finally answered.

* * *

><p>Callie was tired of getting ready in the tiny bathroom that didn't have her usual amenities. She wanted her iPod dock, her plethora of hair stuff, lotions, make up, perfume. This one had a small travel bag with her essentials, but it wasn't home. And the longing she felt for her daughter was only made worse inside this meticulously cleaned, freshly-toweled bathroom. There was no rubber duck in the bathtub, no threadbare robe that Arizona occasionally liked to steal. It made her sad. She sighed, capping her lipstick as she blotted at the freshly applied coat with a tissue.<p>

Arizona wandered into the bathroom, frowning a little at the stark contrast to their well-loved space at home. She had no idea how closely her thoughts aligned with her wife's, though she wouldn't be surprised. The only bright spot of the whole ordeal was the unusual amount of alone time they suddenly had. Alone time that allowed Arizona to fully admire her freshly showered Calliope, standing in front of the mirror, wrapped in one of the plush hotel towels. The blonde slipped in behind her, wrapping her arms around Callie's waist. She nosed into her shoulder before resting her chin on it.

"Hi," Callie smiled into the mirror. "You look glum. You can't be my perky wife."

"It's me, promise," Arizona huffed. Though she wasn't really perky. At all.

Callie turned her head to kiss Arizona's temple. "I really want to go home."

"Me too," the blonde admitted, squeezing Callie little tighter. "As much as I love spending time with you, I miss our girl."

Reaching a hand back, Callie stroked Arizona's hair fondly. "Me too. I actually didn't think it was possible to miss a person who can barely get my name right this much."

Arizona had to laugh at that. "I love you. So much."

"I love you too. If anything this whole cabin fever experience reminds me of how much."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm, I forgot a few things. Like how cute you are when you wake up and don't vault straight out of the bed for the baby. Like a big cover-hogging octopus or something."

Arizona rolled her eyes. "Aw, how sweet," she mumbled sarcastically.

"I mean it!" Callie said as she turned to face her wife, plucking at the belt on her robe. "And you sleep naked here. Can you sleep naked at home?"

"Not with Mark's lack of manners, no."

"Hey, we all remember the coq au vin night," Callie smiled. "He's been pretty good ever since."

"Mm, and you've never been better," Arizona teased as she closed the space between them, pressing a kiss to Callie's neck.

"Mm, don't start. We have to go to this will r-reading," Callie gasped as Arizona tugged the knot on her robe free, letting the terrycloth slip off her shoulders, leaving her completely bare before Callie's eyes.

"I'll be quick," she promised, nails raking up Callie's thigh and beneath the towel as she pushed her back toward the counter next to the sink.

Callie was suddenly grateful for the lack of bathroom accouterments as Arizona hoisted her onto the counter, one hand pulling open the towel while the other tugged at the elastic of her underwear. "Or we could be a little late. Again."


End file.
